1-NRLF 


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Up  Terrapin  River 

A  Romance  ^ 


By  Opie  Read 


Chicago  and  New  York  *  *  * 

Rand,  McNally  &  Company 


Copyright,  1888,  by  Opie  P.  Read. 


i 
UP  TERRAPIN  RIVER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Terrapin  River  flows  through  the  north 
ern  part  of  Arkansas.  It  is  a  small  stream, 
winding  its  way  among  hills,  which  here 
with  graceful  slope,  and  there  with  rugged 
brows,  overlook  the  smooth  and  gliding 
water.  The  water,  when  the  current  is 
not  swollen,  is  so  clear  that  the  stream 
suggests  the  blended  flow  of  countless 
dewdrops.  The  brooks  that  flow  into 
Terrapin  River  seem  to  float  down  sun 
beams,  gathered  in  the  hill-tops.  Up  the 
"  hollow,"  the  cow-bell's  mellow  clang 
floats  away  in  slowly  dying  echo.  The 
spring  frog  struggles  through  a  miniature 
forest  of  rank  ferns  ;  the  dew  that  has 
gathered  on  the  rugged  cliffs,  trickles 

(5) 


MG373GO 


6  Up  Terrapin  River. 

slowly  down  at  the  rising  sun's  command, 
like  tears  flowing  along  the  wrinkles  of  a 
time-worn  face.  The  soft  air  plays  in 
gentle  hide-and-seek,  and  the  wild  rose, 
leaning  over,  bathes  its  blushing  face  in 
the  mirroring  stream. 

The    country    through    which    Upper 
Terrapin  River  flows  is  slow  of  agricult 
ural  development.  Wild  hogs  abound  in 
the  cane-brakes,  and  on  the  hill-sides, where 
the  dogwood  saplings  tangle  their  bloom 
ing    boughs   in    perfumed    network,    the 
bristling  deer  kills  the  rattlesnake,   and 
the  wild  turkey-gobbler  struts  in  barbaric 
vanity.     The  shriek  of  the  steam-whistle 
has  never  disturbed  the  blue  jay's  noon 
tide  nap,  but  the  water-mill,  with  its  rhyth 
mic   splash,    grinds   the    corn  which    the 
whistling   boy,  barefoot  and   astride  the 
sack,  brings  from  over  the  hills. 

The  rankest  of  corn  grows  in  the 
"bottoms,"  and  on  the  uplands  the  pass 
ing  breezes  steal  the  fragrance  of  the 
mellowest  of  horse-apples.  The  people, 
the  most  of  them  at  least,  are  rude  of 


Up  Terrapin  River.  7 

speech.  To  them  the  smooth  sentences 
of  culture  are  as  over-ripe  strawberries — 
unfit  for  use.  The  popular  estimate  of  a 
man's  mental  strength  in  this  neighbor 
hood  is  based  upon  the  roughness  of  his 
expressions.  There  are  schools,  but,  save 
in  the  winter,  they  are  ill  attended,  for  the 
children,  so  soon  as  they  are  old  enough 
to  study,  are  also  large  enough  to  lend 
important  aid  to  the  cultivation  of  the 
crops.  Among  those  people  there  are 
many  peculiar  characters.  They  know  of 
no  country  but  America,  and  are  there 
fore  strictly  American.  They  have  a  half- 
formed  idea  that  there  is  an  outside  world, 
and  that  Andrew  Jackson  whipped  it ;  and 
tradition  tells  them  that  George  Washing 
ton  became  involved  in  a  quarrel  with  a 
king,  an  awful  monster  with  horns  of  gold, 
boxed  his  jaws,  knocked  off  his  horns,  and 
sent  him  howling  home.  Tiieir  ignorance 
is  not  of  the  pernicious  sort,  but  of  that 
humorous  kind  which  finds  bright  laugh 
ter  clinging  to  the  very  semblance  of  a 
joke. 


8  Up  Terrapin  River. 

One  afternoon  a  boy  was  plowing1  corn 
in  a  field  not  far  from  the  river.  He  was 
apparently  about  sixteen  years  old.  Under 
the  sunburn  on  his  face  there  could  be 
seen  the  soft  color  of  sadness.  He  was 
tall  and  well  formed,  and  his  eyes,  when 
he  looked  up  to  tell  the  time  of  day  by 
the  sun,  showed,  by  their  wide-open  earn 
estness — if  there  be  anything  in  such  sur 
mises — that  his  nature  was  deep  and  his 
disposition  frank.  He  had  reached  the 
end  of  the  row,  near  a  rail  fence  along 
whose  zig-zag  way  there  ran  a  road  half 
overgrown  with  briers,  and,  after  turning 
his  horse  about,  was  fanning  himself  with 
his  broad-brim  straw  hat,  when  someone 
called  out : 

"  Halloa,  young  man!" 

The  plowboy  looked  around  and  saw  a 
man  standing  on  the  road-side,  with  his 
arms  resting  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence. 
The  man  was  of  uncommon  height,  and 

o 

his  hair  and  bushy  beard  were  of  such 
fiery  red  as  they  caught  a  sunbeam  that 
came  down  through  the  wavering  boughs 


Up  Terrapin  River.  9 

of  an  oak,  that  the  boy,  bursting  into  a 
laugh,  cried  out:  "  Ef  you  ain't  on  fire,  I 
never  seed  er  bresh  heap  a  burnin'." 

"  Well,"  the  man  replied,  with  a  smile  of 
good  nature,  "  I'm  not  exactly  burning, 
but  I  am  pretty  warm.  Drive  your  horse 
up  there  in  the  shade,  and  come  over  and 
sit  down  awhile.  You  look  as  if  you  are 
tired,  and  besides,  I  feel  disposed  to  talk 
to  someone." 

"  I  am  tired,"  the  boy  rejoined,  "but  ef 
my  uncle  wuz  ter  ketch  me  er  settin'  er- 
roun',  he  mout  norate  it  about  that  I'm 
lazy." 

"  The  fresh-stirred  soil  shows  that  you 
have  plowed  many  furrows  to  day.  If  your 
uncle  should  circulate  such  a  report,"  he 
added,  with  another  good-natured  smile, 
"  I  will  go  with  you  about  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  assist  you  in  correcting  it. 
Come,  for  I  know  that  in  talking  with 
me,  you  would  not  be  ill-spending  your 
time." 

"  Then  I  reckon  you  air  a  school 
teacher." 


io  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  No,  I  am  nothing — nothing  but  an 
everyday  sort  of  wayward  man." 

"  BTeve  I'll  jine  you  wunst  jest  fur 
luck." 

He  drove  his  horse  into  a  fence-corner, 
where  the  tall  alder  bushes  cast  an  inviting 
shadow,  and  joined  the  man,  who  had  sat 
down  with  his  back  against  a  tree. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  the  man  asked. 

"  John  Lucas.     What's  yo'n  ?" 

"  Sam  Potter." 

"  You  air  a  mighty  big  man,  Mr.  Potter, 
an'  I  reckon  you'd  be  a  powerful  fine  han' 
ter  break  a  yoke  uv  steers.  Peers  ter  me 
like  ef  I  wuz  ez  strong  ez  you  air,  I'd  go 
roun'  the  country  an'  grab  er-holt  uv  cat 
tle,  an1  hold  em'  jest  fur  the  fun  uv  seein' 
'em  kick."  He  laughed  boisterously,  and 
then,  when  his  many  shouts  had  ceased, 
Potter  saw  the  soft  color  of  sadness,  under 
the  sunburn  on  his  face. 

11  Just  now  you  spoke  of  your  uncle," 
said  Potter  ;  "  do  you  live  with  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  My  daddy  an'  mammy  wu/ 
drownded  a  long  time  ergo,  in  the  river 


Up  Terrapin  River.  1 1 

up  yander  at  the  fo'd.  Did  you  come  that 
er  way?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  see  er  tall  rock  stickin'  up 
outen  the  groun?" 

"  I  think  I  did." 

•'  Wall,  I  put  that  rock  tharwhen  I  got 
big  ernuff.  It's  ther  tombstone." 

"  Are  they  buried  there  ?" 

"  No ;  they  wuz  washed  erway,  an' 
never  wuz  found,  an'  I  put  that  rock  thar 
becaze  it  is  the  place  whar  they  wuz  last 
seed.  Thar's  a  caterpiller  on  yo'  neck. 
Let  me  bresh  him  off." 

"John,  I  rather  like  you." 

"  Much  erbleeged  ter  you,  sir/' 

"And  I  think  that  there  is  about  you 
excellent  material  for  the  making  of  a 
man." 

"  I  dunno;  but  that's  what  old  Alf  says." 

"Who  is  old  Alf?" 

"  He's  a  nigger;  but  lemme  tell  you  thar 
ain't  no  whiter  man  nowhar  than  he  is. 
He  works  fur  my  uncle,  ur  ruther  sorter 
craps  it  on  the  sheers.  He  don't  peer  to 


12  Up  Terrapin  River. 

kere  fur  nobody  much  but  me  an'  his 
daughter,  that's  all  crippled  up  with  the 
rheumatiz,  an'  when  she  cries  in  the  night 
with  her  pains,  it  don't  make  no  diffunce 
how  hard  he  has  worked  durin'  the  day,  he 
takes  her  up  in  his  arms,  an'  walks  erbout 
with  her  till  she  hushes.  That's  what  I 
call  a  white  man.  Whar  air  you  frum,  Mr. 
Potter?" 

"  From  almost  everywhere." 

"  Whar  do  you  live  ?" 

"  Nearly  everywhere." 

"  Ain't  you  got  nothin'  ter  bind  you 
down  ter  one  place  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  ain't  ez  well  off  ez  old  Alf, 
fur  he  has  got  that  little  crippled-up  gal." 

Potter  bent  upon  the  boy  a  look  of 
contemplation,  and  addressing  himself 
more  than  his  companion,  said:  "  Ah, 
young  man,  you  do  not  know  the  force  of 
your  own  philosophy.  From  the  woods 
there  often  come  the  simple  words  of 
truest  wisdom.  Any  tie  of  life  that  holds 
us  to  someone,  although  at  times  its 


Up  Terrapin  River.  13 

straining  may  fall  little  short  of  agony,  is 
better  far  than  slip-shod  freedom  from 
responsibilty." 

"  You  talk  like  er  preacher,"  said  the 
boy.  "Air  you  one  ?" 

"  No.  As  I  told  you,  I  am  not  anything, 
except  a  tramp.  I  used  to  be  a  sort  of 
lawyer,  but  my  neglect  of  law  texts  and 
love  for  other  books  drove  my  clients 
away.  What's  that  noise  ?" 

"  It's  the  dinner  ho'n,  an'  I  ain't  sorry 
ter  hear  it,  nuther.  Won't  you  come  ter 
the  house,  an'  take  pot-luck  with  us  ?  Ain't 
fur.  See,"  he  added ;  "  its  right  over 
yander  on  the  hill." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  John,  for  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  bear.  Wait 
a  moment  until  I  get  my  carpet-bag. 
There  is  nothing  in  it  but  a  shirt  and  a 
few  old  books — nothing  in  it  to  eat,  I 
well  know. 

When  they  reached  the  stable,  Potter 
climbed  up  into  the  loft,  to  throw  down 
some  corn  and  fodder,  while  John  was 
taking  the  gear  off  of  the  horse. 


14  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  Now  we'll  go  ter  the  house,"  said 
John,  when  Potter  had  come  down,  "but 
ez  we  walk  erlong  lemme  tell  you  suthin'. 
No  matter  whut  Aunt  Liz  says,  don't  pay 
no  ertention  to  her.  Mebbe  she  won't 
say  nuthin'  much,  but  ef  she's  on  one  uv 
her  tantrums,  ez  Uncle  Jeff  calls  'em,  she's 
mighty  ap'  ter  make  you  bat  yo'  eyes  like 
dust  wuz  er-blowin'  yo'  way,  but  keep  on 
er  battin'  an'  don't  say  nuthin'.  You  mout 
think  that  she  is  the  audationist  woman 
you  ever  seed,  an'  it  mout  'pear  like  she's 
goin'  ter  eat  you  bodatiously  up,  but  ez  I 
said  befo'  keep  on  e'  battin'  an'  don't  say 
nuthin' !" 

Just  as  they  were  entering  the  yard,  a 
woman's  shrill  voice  cried  out:  "My 
stairs,  John,  who  on  the  top  uv  the  yeth 
have  you  picked  up  this  time  ?  Wall,  ef  he 
ain't  er  sight  fur  ter  see  I  wish  I  may 
never  stir  agin." 

"  Keep  on  er  battin',"  John  whispered. 

"  Fur  pity  sake,"  the  woman  continued, 
"  is  he  er  red  shanghai  ur  old  Satan's 
whut  not  ?  John,  I  oughter  bump  yo'  head 


Up  Terrapin  River.  15 

ergin  the  wall  fur  pickin'  up  ever  ragtag 
an'  bob-tail  that  comes  erlong." 

"  Madam,"  said  Potter,  making  a  pro 
found  bow,  "  I  hope  I  do  not  intrude." 

"  Lissen  at  him  !  My  stairs,  he's  the 
biggest  thing  I  ever  seed  lessen  it  wuz 
on  wheels." 

"  Hush,  an'  keep  on  er  battin',"  whis 
pered  John. 

"  I  never  seed  the  like  in  my  borned 
days,"  the  woman  went  on.  "  The  shotes 
got  in  the  garden,  an'  momoxed  up  the 
cabbages,  an'  now  the  fetchtaked  bucket 
had  to  git  off  down  in  the  well.  Pap,  he's 
gone  ter  the  blacksmith  shop,  an'  old  Alf 
is  er-pokin'  roun'  summers,  an'  thar  aint 
er  body  on  the  place  ter  do  nothin'.  Shew 
thar !  The  fetchtaked  hens  is  boun'  ter 
scratch  up  the  red  pepper,  an'  the  red  ca'f 
has  run  agin  the  corner  uv  the  fence  an' 
mighty  nigh  killed  hisse'f.  Laws  er 
massy,  it  do  'pear  like  eve'thing  is  goin' 
ter  rack  and  ruin." 

Potter,  as  he  stood  looking  at  her, 
thought  that  he  had  never  before  seen  so 


1 6  Up  Terrapin  River. 

strange  a  creature.  She  was  angular,  and, 
using  a  country  -expression  descriptive  of 
extreme  leanness,  was  rawboned.  Her 
iron-gray  hair  stood  out  in  frowsy  fierce 
ness,  and  her  fading  black  eyes  seemed 
never  to  have  been  lighted  with  a  glow  of 
gentleness.  She  had  a  snarling  habit  of 
wrinkling  her  long,  sharp  nose,  and  at 
times  all  her  ill-nature  would  apparently 
find  settlement  on  a  hair-covered  mole 
that  grew  on  her  chin. 

"  Madam,"  said  Potter,  "  I  don't  think 
that  I  can  repair  all  the  damage  that  has 
been  done,  but  if  you  will  show  me  the  well 
I  will  make  an  effort  to  get  the  bucket." 

"  Yander,"  she  replied,  pointing. 

He  went  to  the  well,  climbed  down  the 
rough  stones  of  the  wall  by  placing  his 
feet  on  each  side,  and  soon  came  up  with 
the  bucket. 

"  Wall,  ef  he  ain't  got  it,  hope  I  may 
never  stir  agin,"  the  woman  exclaimed. 
"Yander  is  pap." 

A  man  well  advanced  in  years  dis 
mounted  from  a  swayback  horse  at  the 


Up  Terrapin  River.  17 

gate,  threw  a  plow  point  on  the  ground 
and  came  forward.  So  far  from  being 
ill-looking,  there  was  something  comical 
about  him. 

"  Uncle  Jeff,"  said  the  boy,  "this  here 
man's  name  is  Potter.  I  met  him  over  at 
the  fiel'  an'  axed  him  ter  come  ter  dinner 
with  me,  an'  he  'lowed  he  wuz  as  hungry 
as  a  bar." 

"  How  air  you,  sir?  Glad  to  make  yo' 
'quaintance.  We  ain't  got  no  great  show 
uv  suthin'  ter  eat,  but  I  reckin  we  kin 
sorter  dam  up  yo'  appetite  er  leetle." 

"  Pap,"  said  the  woman,  "  erbody  ter 
hear  you  talk  would  think  that  we  never 
did  have  nuthin'  ter  eat.  I  spize  ter  see 
er  man  ack  like  he  didn't  have  no  raisin'." 

"  Yas,"  the  old  fellow  replied,  "  but  I'd 
ruther  see  that  than  ter  see  er  woman 
with  the  tanterums." 

She  cast  a  quick  glance  at  him,  wrin 
kled  her  nose,  and  then  turning  away, 
said  : 

"Come  on  in  now,  an'  let  vo  vidults 
stop  yo'  mouth." 

2 


1 8  Up  Terrapin  River. 

During  the  meal,  Potter  talked  with 
the  spirit  of  such  entertainment,  that  at 
times  the  old  man  sat  in  open-mouth  heed 
of  his  words  ;  and  the  old  woman,  forget 
ful  of  her  snappishness,  bestowed  upon 
him  many  glances  of  not  unkind  attention. 
After  dinner,  as  they  sat  under  the  trees 
in  the  yard,  the  old  man,  addressing  John, 
said : 

"  Ez  it  is  Saturday  evenin',  you  mout 
ez  well  knock  off  yo'  plowin'  fur  the  bal- 
unce  uv  the  day.  Me  an'  yo'  aunt  Liz  is 
goin*  over  ter  Frazier's  ter  stay  all  night, 
an'  go  frum  thar  ter  meetin'  ter-mor'. 
Thar's  plenty  ter  eat  cooked,  an'  ef  yo' 
frien'  wants  ter  stay  here  with  you,  all 
right." 

The  boy's  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile, 
and  turning  to  Potter,  he  said  : 

"  Wish  you  would  stay." 

"  I  will,"  replied  Potter. 

When  old  Jeff  and  his  wife  had  gone, 
when  the  horses'  hoofs,  rattling  over  the 
flinty  road,  were  no  longer  heard,  John, 
awakening  from  a  seeming  reverie,  arose, 


Up  Terrapin  River.  19 

placed  his  hands  with  a  sort  of  tender 
touch  on  the  back  of  Potter's  chair,  and 
said  : 

"  I  am  powerful  glad  you  air  goin*  to 
stay,  for  you  air  the  first  great  big  man 
that  ever  tuck  the  trouble  ter  talk  much 
ter  me.  I  aint  never  been  cuffed  erroun' 
none,  but  thar  is  a  heap  er  ways  to 
make  er  boy  feel  bad  without  cuffin'  him 
erroun'.  Not  understandin'  him  is  er 
putty  sho  way  uv  hurtin'  his  feelin's." 

"  You  are  right,  and  I  wonder  that  a 
boy  of  your  surroundings  should  have  such 
ripe  conclusions — I  mean  that  I  am  sur 
prised  at  your  good  sense." 

"  I  hope  I  don't  look  like  er  fool." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Potter  quickly  rejoined ; 
"there  is  at  times  about  your  face  a  glow 
of  struggling  inspiration — I  mean  that  I 
like  your  face.  If  we  were  together  very 
long  I  think  I  could  teach  you  to  under 
stand  my  odd  expressions." 

"  It  would  be  ez  good  ez  understandin' 
uv  er  book,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"  Well,  I  could  help  you  to  understand 

2 


2O  Up  Terrapin  River. 

books,  and  books  would  help  you  to  under 
stand  me." 

John  sat  down,  and  Potter,  glancing  at 
him,  saw  that  on  his  face  there  lay  a 
strange  expression — that  through  the  soft 
color  of  sadness  a  ray  of  hope  was  shin 
ing.  At  length  the  boy  said  : 

"  Uncle  Jeff  told  me  the  other  day  that 
the  best  way  fur  er  boy  ter  make  er  man 
outen  hisse'f  is  ter  git  out  an'  hussle.  He 
ken  git  ernuther  boy  ter  plow  for  his 
vidults  an'  clothes.  Let  me  go  with  you." 

"  What,  do  you  mean  that  you  really 
want  to  go  with  me  ?" 

"  Yas." 

"  Let  me  lie  down  under  this  tree  and 
sleep  a  little  while,  John.  When  I  awake 
we  will  talk  over  the  matter.  The  fact  is 
I  have  been  walking  all  day  and  am  very 
tired." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  21 


CHAPTER    II. 

Had  Potter  been  less  tired,  to  sleep 
would  not  have  required  an  effort. 
Nature's  noises,  it  seemed,  had  conspired 
to  "  weigh  the  eyelids  down"  with  pleasant 
drowsiness.  The  "  chatter-jack,"  clinging 
to  the  nodding  iron-weed's  purple  top, 
trilled  his  carol  in  praise  of  midsummer. 
The  cat-bird,  with  soft  nursing  song, 
taught  her  young  ones  among  the  trumpet 
vines ;  and  all  the  sounds  were  gathered 
up  and  borne  away  by  breezes  that  brought 
sweetened  scents  from  gullied  hill-sides 
where  larkspurs  grew. 

The  boy  sat  gazing  at  his  new-found 
friend,  and  with  that  innate  admiration  of 
the  powerful,  which  is  felt  alike  by  the 
savage  and  the  cultivated  man,  contem 
plated  his  great  chest  and  mighty  arms. 
Nature's  sleep-wooing  sounds  began  to 


22  Up  Terrapin  River. 

affect  him.  He  nodded,  and  felt  himself 
sliding  from  the  chair,  but  making  no 
effort  to  regain  his  seat,  he  stretched  him 
self  upon  the  grass  and  slept. 

When  John  opened  his  eyes,  he  saw 
Potter  sitting  on  a  chair  looking  at  him. 

"  Well,  my  young  friend,  have  you 
enjoyed  your  nap  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Seein1  you  sleep  so  easy, 
made  me  sleepy.  Now,"  he  continued 
as  he  got  up,  "  let's  talk  erbout  me  goin' 
with  you." 

"All  right.  I  have  just  thought  of  a 
plan  that  will  be  better  for  us  than  to  stroll 
about  the  country.  There,  I  see  you  are 
disappointed.  Let  me  explain  my  plan. 
I  thought  that  we  might  rent  a  small  farm 
somewhere  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
together  cultivate  it.  We  would  not  per 
mit  our  work  to  interfere  with  necessary 
pleasure.  We  would  not  strive  to  make 
money,  but  would  compel  our  farm  to 
render  us  liberal  support.  In  season  we 
could  hunt  and  fish,  and  beside  our  own 
fire-place,  we  could  grow  wise  in  the  study 


Up  Terrapin  River.  23 

of  books.  I  would  be  your  teacher.  You 
spoke  of  the  negro,  old  Alf.  Let  him  and 
his  daughter  go  with  us.  After  a  few 
years  you  would  be  fitted  to  go  out  into 
the  world.  Ah,  your  eyes  brighten.  You 
approve  of  the  plan  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  If  you  will  learn  me  how  to 
read  I'll  go  anywhar  with  you." 

"  I  will  take  as  much  pains  with  you  as 
if  you  were  my  son.  You  may  wonder 
why  I  wish  to  settle  down  in  such  an  out- 
of-the-way  place.  After  awhile  you  shall 
know — I  hope." 

"  Why  do  you  say  you  hope ;  kain't 
you  tell  me  now  ?" 

"No,  not  now;  perhaps  never,  but  I 
hope  to — well,  we  will  talk  about  that 
some  other  time.  All  I  ask  of  you  now 
is  to  have  perfect  confidence  in  me.  It  is 
a  strange  request,  no  doubt,  but  you  shall 
not  regret  the  granting  of  it.  Who  is  that 
coming  ?" 

"Alf,"  the  boy  replied. 

A  negro,  not  very  large,  and  yet  seem 
ingly  possessed  of  much  strength,  climbed 


24  Up  Terrapin  River. 

over  the  fence,  hung  a  scythe  in  a 
tree,  and  approached  the  place  where 
Potter  and  John  were  sitting.  His  face 
was  a  study  of  good  humor,  tenderness, 
and  quaint  thoughtfulness.  He  was  more 
intelligent  than  the  average  man  of  the 
neighborhood.  He  had  lived  in  other 
parts  of  the  country,  and  had,  before  the 
war,  belong  to  a  North  Carolina  planter. 

When  John  introduced  him  to  Potter, 
and  when  Potter  had  courteously  taken 
his  hand,  Alf,  removing  his  straw  hat, 
made  a  profound  bow  and  said : 

"  Fse  mighty  pleased  ter  meet  you,  sah, 
caze  I  sees  de  true  genermen  er  shinin'  on 
yo1  face ;  but  lemme  tell  you,  white  man,  I 
wouldn't  hab  you  hit  me  wid  dat  fist  o' 
yo'n  fur  all  de  co'n  dars  gwine  ter  be 
raised  in  dis  yere  county  fur  two  year. 
Er  haw,  haw !  If  dis  man  doan  tote  er 
maul  Voun'  wid  him  I  neber  seed  one. 
Look  here,  Mr.  Potter,  whar  you  frum, 
nohow  ?" 

"  As  I  told  our  friend  John,  I  am  from 
nearly  everywhere." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  25 

"  Yas,  sah,  I  better  b'leve  you  is,  better 
b'leve  dat  fur  er  fact,  caze  da  ain't  turnin' 
out  sich  men  in  dis  yere  'munity  at  de 
present  ercasion,  Haw,  haw  !  John,  jes 
look  at  dat  man,  will  you  ?  Huh,  er  pus- 
son  would  be  flingin'  way  his  time  ter 
come  projickin  wid  you ;  but  lemme  tell 
you,  I  likes  er  big  man.  Bar's  a  heep 
mo1  comferdence  ter  be  put  in  er  hoss  den 
dar  is  in  er  fox.  Yas,  sah,  yas.  How 
long  you  gwinter  circle  Voun'  in  dis  yere 
neighborhood,  Mr.  Potter?" 

Potter  replied  by  gradually  unfolding 
his  plan.  Old  Alf  listened  with  his  head 
turned  to  one  side,  like  a  blackbird  that 
hears  the  twanging  of  a  fiddlestring. 
When  Potter  had  concluded,  old  Alf 
scratched  his  head  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  addressing  John,  remarked  : 

"  Dem's  calkerlations,  I  tell  you  dat. 
Whut  does  yo'se'l  think  erbout  it?" 

"Fits  me  so  well,"  John  replied,  "that 
I  feel  like  gittin'  -out  thar  an'  caperin' 
'round  like  er  ca'f.  I  ain't  had  no  chances; 
Alf,  you  know  that.  I  have  allus  been 


26  Up  Terrapin  River. 

tied  down  here  with  er  putty  short  rope, 
too,  an'  ain't  had  er  chance  ter  graze  out 
ter  the  end  uv  the  line  ;  an'  I've  pulled 
agin  the  rope  till  my  neck  is  gettin'  putty 
sore,  yit  knowin'  all  the  time  that  ef  I 
broke  the  rope  I  wouldn't  know  whar  ter 
go,  nor  what  ter  do  arter  I  got  thar." 

"  Talkin'  like  er  floserfer  an'  er  gogerfy 
an'  er  rithermertik,  now,  chile.  I  thinks 
it  will  be  er  good  thing  myse'f,"  old  Alf 
went  on.  "  I  knows  what  edycation  is — 
knows  what  it  is  by  de  lack  o'  it.  Dar's 
one  man  dat  knows  de  full  wuth  o'  er 
dollar,  an'  dat's  de  man  dat  ain't  got  it." 

"  You  can  trust  me,"  said  Potter,  "  to 
carry  out  with  the  utmost  faithfulness  my 
part  of  the  contract.  Of  course,  I  am  a 
stranger  to  both  of  you,  but " 

"  Jes  hoi'  on  er  minnit,"  Alf  broke  in. 
"  You  ain't  gwine  tell  us  how  hones'  you 
is,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  no;  for  I  do  not  claim  to  be  more 
honest  than  the  average  man  is." 

"  Glad  ter  yere  you  say  dat,  fur  de  man 
dat's  allus  er  talkin'  'bout  how  hones'  he 


Up  Terrapin  River.  27 

is,  an'  sorter  wants  ter  prove  'fo'  anybody 
dun  'sputed  it,  is  'spicious  o'  de  fack  his- 
se'f,  an'  de  proof  is  'tended  ter  'vince  his 
own  mine  ez  much  ez  it  is  de  folks  dat's 
listenin'  ter  him.  Dar  wuz  er  man  in  ole 
North  Kliney  dat  one  day  while  ridin' 
long  de  pike  come  ter  er  toll  gate.  De 
gate  wuz  open,  but  dar  wa'nt  nobody  at 
de  house.  De  man  looked  way  'cross  de 
fiel',  he  did,  an'  he  seed  de  toll-gate  keeper 
at  work.  He  pitched  out  ober  dar,  er  ha'f 
mile  through  de  brilin'  sun,  an'  gin  de  man 
five  cents.  '  You'se  de  hones'  man  I  eber 
seed,'  said  de  toll-gate  keeper,  '  ter  come 
all  ober  dis  hot  groun'  ter  gin  me  five 
cents.'  'Yas,'  said  de  traveler,  sorter 
drawin'  his  mouf  down  like  he  been  eatin' 
er  green  pear,  '  nobody  is  mo'  hones'  den 
I  is.'  He  went  on  er  way,  an'  sah,  in  three 
munts  from  dat  time  he'd  dun  been 
sent  ter  de  penytenchy  fur  stealin'  er 
hoss." 

Potter  laughed  with  good-natured  up 
roar — laughed  so  loud  that  a  bee  martin, 
which  had  just  alighted  on  the  fence, 


28  Up  Terrapin  River. 

flapped  its  wings  in  sudden  fright  and 
flew  away. 

"  I  am  not  going  about  making  a  show 
of  honesty,  Alf,"  said  Potter,  when  the 
echo  of  his  merriment  had  died  in  the 
valley. 

"  Glad  to  know  dat,  sah,  mighty  glad 
ter  know  it  ef  I'se  gwine  ter  hab  dealin's 
wid  you.  I  ken  tell  de  right  sort  o'  man 
putty  nigh  ever'  time.  I'll  go  inter  dis 
'rangement,  caze  we'll  hab  er  lot  o'  fun 
'long  wid  our  work." 

-Do  you  like  to  fish,  Alf?" 

"  Do  er  yaller  dog  like  er  fried  chicken?" 

"  Well,  I  rather  think  he  does." 

"  Uh,  huh.     Wall  den,  I  likes  ter  fish." 

"  Do  you  like  to  hunt  ?" 

"  Do  er  muley  steer  like  de  sweet  grass 
dat  grows  in  de  cornder  o'  de  fence  up 
ergin  de  bottom  rail  ?" 

"It  strikes  me  that  he  does." 

"  Uh,  huh.  Wall,  it  strikes  me  dat  I 
likes  ter  hunt." 

"  Mr.  Potter,"  said  John,  "the  sun  is  er 
goin'  down  an'  its  erbout  time  we  wuz 


Up  Terrapin  River.  29 

eatin'  uv  er  snack.  You  an'  Alf  jest  keep 
on  er  talkin' while  I  go  an'  put  the  vidults 
on  the  table." 

"  Dat's  er  monster  fine  boy,"  said  Alf, 
when  John  had  gone  into  the  house. 
"  He's  sorter  quiet  now  caze  he  ain't  much 
erquainted,  but  airter  while  he'll  argy  er 
p'int  wid  you.  Dar  ain't  nobody  dat's  got 
er  better  heart  den  he  has,  but  lemme  tell 
you,  dat  white  boy  ain't  erfeerd  o'  ole 
Nick  hisse'f." 

"  I  have  known  him  but  a  few  hours," 
Potter  replied,  "  but  I  have  become  much 
attached  to  him.  Where  is  your  daugh 
ter,  Alf?" 

"  Ober  yander  in  er  cabin  on  de  hillside. 
Ef  you  lissun  you  mout  yere  her  singin', 
dat  is,  ef  her  pains  ain't  on  her.  Po'  chile, 
she  hab  paid  mighty  dear  fur  de  singin' 
she's  done  in  dis  yere  life  ;  but  her  reward 
gwine  ter  come  airter  while,  Mr.  Potter. 
Her  crown  goin'  ter  be  mighty  bright — 
rubbed  bright  wid  de  soft  rag  o'  long  suf- 
ferin',  sah.  Huh,  my  mouf  waters  now 
when  I  think  'bout  dem  huntin'  sprees 


30  Up  Terrapin  River. 

we'se  gwine  ter  hab  ;  an'  lemme  tell  you, 
I  knows  whar  de  b'ars  is  way  up  de  riber 
in  de  canebrakes,  knows  zactly  whar  da 
uses.  John  he's  got  er  rifle  mighty  nigh 
long  ez  he  is,  an'  I'se  got  one  deze  yere 
army  guns  —  her  name's  Nance  —  dat 
shoots — wall,  when  er  bullet  gits  outen 
dat  gun  it  jes  keeps  on  er  goin',  it  peer 
like,  an'  I  hab  trained  her  sights  down  till 
she  shoots  right  whar  I  hoi's  her,  too. 
Dar,  John  say  come  on." 

They  went  into  the  house.  Alf  did  not 
care  for  anything  to  eat.  He  had  eaten 
just  before  leaving  home,  but  he  found  so 
much  satisfaction  in  seeing  his  friends  eat 
that  he  would  take  a  seat  near  the  table 
and  watch  the  performance.  The  old 
negro  became  more  and  more  interested 
in  Potter,  and  occasionally,  after  a  sort  of 
digestive  contemplation  of  a  remark  made 
by  the  gigantic  guest,  he  would  slowly 
nod  his  head  in  thorough  approval.  Sud 
denly  he  slapped  his  leg  and  exclaimed : 

"  De  Lawd  is  already  dun  hepped  us 
out  on  dis  yere  pilgumage  by  puttin'  me 


Up  Terrapin  River.  31 

in  mine  o'  de  very  place  we  wants.  Up 
de  river  'bout  six  miles  frum  yere — John, 
you  know  de  place — dar's  er  farm  o'  some 
sebenty-five  acres,  er  good  'eal  o'  it  dun 
cleared.  Some  o'  it  is  in  de  riber  bottom 
an'  is  monst'us  rich.  '  B'longs  ter  ole 
man  Sevier  dat  libes  'bout  two  mile  frum 
yere.  Think  we  ken  git  it  fur  mighty  low 
rent,  fur  nobody  ain't  lived  on  it  fur  three 
ur  fo'  year.  How  does  dem  obserwations 
strike  de  'sembly  ?" 

Potter  and  John  were  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  so  early  a  ripening  of  their 
hopes.  The  place  was  in  the  edge  of  a 
wild  section  of  the  country.  So  much  the 
better.  It  was  at  least  two  miles  from 
any  other  house.  Better  still. 

"  Uncle  Jeff  won't  object  to  me  goin'," 
said  John,  "  but  Aunt  Liz  will,  not  'cause 
she's  afeerd  I  won't  do  well,  but  'cause " 

"  'Cause  she's  feerd  you  will,"  old  Alf 
broke  in.  "  Oh,  I  knows  dat  lady.  Haw, 
haw  !  Knows  dat  lady  frum  way  back 
yander  way  up  inter  de  time  whut  ain't 
got  yere  yit,  but  dat  doan  make  no 


32          •     Up  Terrapin  River. 

diffunce.  Well  whittle  off  all  de  wrinkles 
on  de  ho'n  o'  her  ubjections." 

"You  are  the  most  figurative  man  I 
ever  knew,"  Potter  smilingly  remarked. 

"  Oh,  no,  sah,  dat's  whar  you's  wrong. 
I  ain't  figertive  hardly  none.  I  ken  make 
er  figer  one  an'  ken  cut  er  mighty  caper 
wid  er  figer  two,  but  I  kain't  add  'em 
tergedder  'cept  I  do  it  in  my  mine  ;  but 
let  us  git  down  ter  dis  yere  bizness.  I'll 
go  ober  ter  ole  man  Sevier's  dis  ebenin' 
an'  tell  him  ter  drap  ober  yere  arly  Mon 
day  mawnin',  an'  he'll  come,  lemme  tell 
you,  fur  he  is  ez  keen  ter  let  us  hab  dat 
place  ez  we  is  ter  git  it.  B'lebe  I'll  go  dis 
minit,"  he  added,  taking  up  his  hat. 
"  Good  ebenin',  'panions  o'  de  mighty  fine 
enterprise  ;  good  ebenin'  ter  you." 

Potter  and  John  talked  until  a  late 
hour  and  then  went  to  bed  up  near  the 
clapboard  roof.  John  soon  sank  to  sleep. 
Potter  lay  gazing  at  the  stars  that  winked 
through  holes  in  the  roof.  A  whippoor- 
will  sat  on  the  stack  chimney  and  sang  a 
lonesome  song,  but  a  cricket  came  out 


Up  Terrapin  River.  33 

from  under  an  old  trunk,  stopped  in  a  bar 
of  moonlight  that  fell  on  the  floor,  and 
chirruped  merrily.  The  screech-owl,  muf 
fling  and  fluttering  among  the  damp 
leaves  of  the  rank  greenbrier,  cried  with 
annoying  cadence,  but  the  tree-toad,  with 
his  somnolent  croak,  smoothed  down  the 
pillow  with  gentle  sleepiness. 

Potter  was  awakend  by  John,  who 
called  him  to  breakfast.  Old  Alf  soon 
came.  Old  man  Sevier  would  be  pleased 
to  rent  his  farm.  He  cared  not  so  much 
for  the  money  as  for  the  improvements 
that  might  be  made.  The  morning  hours 
were  spent  in  a  delighted  talking  over  of 
maturing  plans.  In  the  afternoon  old 
Jeff  and  his  wife  returned.  Old  Jeff 
smiled  upon  the  project,  but  the  old 
woman  wrinkled  her  long  nose,  drove  to 
the  mole  on  her  chin  the  wavering  lines 
of  dissatisfaction,  and  declared  that  people 
who  took  up  with  every  rag-tag  that  came 
along  always  starved  to  death  or  had  to 
beg  among  the  neighbors.  Everyone 
knew  that  she  had  done  her  duty  by  John, 


34  Up  Terrapin  River. 

and  why  he  wanted  to  leave  was  some 
thing  she  could  not  understand.  "  You 
never  seed  this  man  till  yistidy,"  the  old 
woman  went  on,  addressing  her  nephew, 
"an'  I  don't  know  why  in  the  name  uv 
common  sense  you  wanter  foller  him  off. 
Jest  like  men  folks,  anyway.  Anybody 
ken  come  erlong  an'  lead  'em  by  the  nose. 
Alf !" 

"Yessum." 

"  Ain't  you  got  no  sense  ?" 

"  Wall'um,  I'se  got  mo'  den  de  man  dat 
tried  ter  rive  clapboards  wid  er  razor  an' 
den  tried  ter  shave  hisse'f  wid  er  froe." 

"  I  don't  b'leve  it." 

"  I  kaint  hep  dat.  Mr.  Potter,  doan  pay 
HO  'tention  ter  de  lady,  sah." 

"  You  good  for  nuthin'  black  imp,  you 
neenter  be  er  tellin'  nobody  what  ter  do 
on  my  ercount." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  old  Jeff;  "  ef  you 
must  chop  wood  be  keerful  uv  yo'  chips. 
Ef  John  wants  ter  go,  w'y  he's  goin',  that's 
all.  He  won't  be  so  fur  erway  but  you 
ken  see  him  ever'  once  in  er  while." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  35 

"  Oh,  I  won't  be  hankerin'  airter  seein' 
him.  He  ain't  no  blood  kin  uv  mine,  the 
Lawd  knows." 

"  Madam,"  said  Potter,  "  I  am  very 
sorry  that  I  have  caused " 

"  Oh,  shet  ye'  mouth,"  she  snapped. 
"  You  don't  know  what  you  ase  sorry  uv." 

With  the  exception  of  an  occasional  out 
burst  from  the  old  woman  the  remainder 
of  the  day  was  passed  pleasantly.  Early 
the  next  morning  Sevier  came  over.  The 
farm  was  rented  on  easy  terms.  Prepara 
tions  for  immediate  departure  were  begun. 
John  and  Alf  each  owned  a  horse.  Alf 
had  two  plows  and  several  hoes.  Old  Jeff 
would  lend  them  his  wagon  to  haul  their 
4<  plunder  "  over  to  their  new  home.  Just 
as  they  had  finished  loading  the  wagon 
Alf's  daughter  came,  walking  with  a 
crutch.  She  was  but  little  more  than  a 
child,  and  though  she  bore  the  marks  of 
great  suffering  yet  she  was  bright  and 
cheerful.  When  everything  was  ready, 
old  Alf,  taking  hold  of  his  daughter's  arm, 
said:  "Jule,  me'n  you  will  ride  up  yere 


36  Up  Terrapin  River. 

on  dis  seat,  fur  I  gwine  ter  drive.  Mr. 
Potter,  you  an*  John  set  back  dar  on  dat 
straw  bed." 

Jeff  and  his  wife  were  standing  near  the 
wagon.  Mrs.  Lucas,  while  watching  the 
smallest  detail  of  every  movement,  kept 
up  a  constant  wrinkling  of  her  nose. 
"  This  is  the  biggest  fool  caper  I  ever 
seed,"  she  declared.  "  Shew,  thar !  the 
fetchtaked  chickens  air  scratchin'  up  the 
pepper  agin.  The  biggest  fool  caper  I 
ever  seed." 

"  I  knowd  o'  er  bigger  one  once,"  Alf 
replied,  slily  winking  at  Jeff. 
"  I  don't  know  when  it  wuz." 
"  It  wuz  the  time,"  Alf  rejoined,  again 
winking  at  Jeff,  "  that  one  o'  the  Scrog- 
gins   boys  clim  up  a  sycamore  tree  an' 
tried  to  blow  out  de  moon." 

"  Oh,  go  on  an'  keep  yo'  mouth  shet." 
"  I'se  gwine  on,  lady,  but  I  kaint  prom 
ise  you  ter  keep  my  mouf  shet,  fur  de  man 
dat  keeps  his  mouf  shet  is  gwine  ter 
starve,  caze  lessen  he  opens  it  he  kaint 
put  nuthen  ter  eat  in  it — er  haw,  haw." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  37 

"  Oh,  shet  up.  Jest  ter  think  you  would 
run  erway  and  leave  er  half-grown  crap." 

"  Me  an'  Mr.  Jeff  dun  fixed  dat,  lady." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  bound  he'd  fix  anything 
that  don't  take  no  trouble.  Stands  thar 
now,  grinnin'  like  er  possum.  Don't  peer 
like  he'd  kere  whuther  we  raise  a  crap  or 
not.  Thar,  drive  on  with  you,  now. 
Never  seed  sich  a  fool  caper  in  my  life. 
Bet  you  all  starve  to  death." 

It  was  so  early  when  they  drove  off 
that  the  dew  was  still  dripping  from  a 
vine-covered  tree.  Alf  and  his  daughter 
hummed  a  tune.  John,  placing  one  hand 
on  Potter's  knee,  looked  earnestly  into  his 
face  and  said : 

"  This  is  the  happiest  day  uv  my  life." 

"  Ah,  my  boy,  we  may  spend  many 
happy  days  together.  I  was  just  thinking 
how,  in  my  case,  a  few  hours  had  brought 
such  a  change — the  change  from  a  tramp 
to  a  man  who  is  driving  toward  his  own 
home." 

"  Whoa,  whoa,"  exclaimed  Alf,  pulling 
on  the  lines.  "John,  reach  back  dar  an' 


38  Up  Terrapin  River. 

han'  me  Ole  Nance  (meaning  his  gun). 
Come  back  yere,  Pete,  you  triflin'  raskil 
(addressing  his  dog)." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  Potter  asked. 

"  Matter  ?  Is  you  so  blind  dat  you 
kaint  see  dat  monst'us  rattlesnake  crossin' 
de  road  right  up  dar  ?" 

"  My  gracious,  what  a  monster  !"  Potter 
exclaimed. 

"  Yas,"  replied  Alf,  as  he  took  his  gun 
and  cautiously  climbed  down  out  of  the 
wagon,  "  an'  he  ain't  eat  no  less'n  er  ha'f 
er  dozen  squirrels  fur  his  breakfast.  Git 
out,  generman,  an'  watch  de  'formance." 

Potter  and  John  got  out.  Alf  con 
tinued  :  "  Wait  till  he  curls  an'  hoi's  up 
his  head.  Doan  git  up  too  close,  caze  he 
blow  at  you  an'  make  you  sick.  Greshus, 
how  pizen  he  is.  Now  hoi'  on." 

The  snake  was  holding  up  its  head. 
Alf  took  deliberate  aim  and  fired.  In 
stantly  the  reptile  was  a  twisting  and 
tumbling  mass  of  yellow  and  black  and 
green. 

"  He's  lookin'  round  fur  his  head,"  Alf 


Up  Terrapin  River.  39 

remarked,  "  but  he  ain't  gwine  ter  find  it 
dis  mawnin'.  Wait  till  I  pull  off  his  rat 
tles.  Wants  'em  ter  put  in  my  fiddle." 

He  pulled  off  the  rattles  while  the  snake 
was  still  writhing,  and,  as  he  climbed  back 
into  the  wagon,  remarked  :  "  It's  allus  a 
sign  o'  good  luck  ter  kill  er  rattlesnake 
dat's  crossin'  yo'  road.  Get-ep,  boys." 

They  crossed  the  beautiful  river  and 
drove  up  the  stream. 

"  Yander  is  de  place,"  said  Alf,  pointing. 

Yes,  it  was  the  place — a  place  from 
which  John's  life  was  to  turn  in  a  new 
direction — a  place  of  learning,  romance, 
and  adventure — a  place  of  laughter  and 
of  tears. 


40  Up  Terrapin  River. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  house  was  situated  on  a  hill  near 
the  river.  From  one  of  its  windows  the 
crystal  stream  could  be  seen.  Every  sur 
rounding  was  attractive  to  a  lover  of 
nature.  The  house  was  built  of  logs  and 
contained  two  rooms.  In  one  of  the 
rooms  there  was  a  great  fireplace.  It  did 
not  take  the  new  occupants  long  to 
arrange  their  scanty  collection  of  furni 
ture.  The  girl,  woman-like,  regretted 
that  no  better  show  was  made,  but  the 
men  declared  that  the  house  contained 
everything  that  was  strictly  necessary. 
The  third  day  after  their  arrival  Potter, 
upon  getting  up  from  the  breakfast-table 
(he  and  John  ate  at  one  large  box  and 
Alf  and  his  daughter  ate  at  another  one 
of  exact  pattern),  turned  to  his  friends 
and  remarked:  "  I  am  going  over  to 


Up  Terrapin  River.  41 

Sunset  to-day  (a  village  about  twenty-five 
miles  distant),  to  get  a  Winchester  rifle — 
saw  one  in  a  store  as  I  came  through  the 
other  day — and  the  books  necessary  for 
the  beginning  of  our  educational  course. 
I  have  a  few  dollars,  not  many,  it  is  true, 
but  quite  enough.  John,  you  and  Alf  get 
as  much  work  done  as  you  can.  Of  course, 
the  season  is  so  far  advanced  that  we  can 
not  get  in  much  of  a  crop,  but  we  must 
try  to  raise  enough  corn  to  run  us  during 
the  winter." 

Never  before  had  John  gone  to  work 
with  such  enjoyment.  He  sang  as  he 
turned  over  the  soil.  Encouragement  had 
put  a  song  in  his  mouth.  Alf  was 
delighted,  and  Jule  was  so  light-hearted 
and  so  improved  that  she  sometimes 
ventured  out  without  her  crutch.  There 
was  much  work  to  be  done,  but  they 
all  regarded  its  accomplishment  as  a 
pleasure. 

Potter  did  not  return  until  late  at 
night,  but  his  friends  had  sat  up  waiting 
to  receive  him.  He  brought  the  Win- 


42  Up  Terrapin  River. 

Chester  rifle  and  a  supply  of  cartridges; 
he  brought  the  books,  some  needed  dishes, 
a  pair  of  shoes  for  John,  a  Sunday  hat 
for  Alf,  and  a  calico  dress  for  Jule. 

"  Oh,  it's  de  putties  thing  I  eber  seed 
in  my  life,"  the  girl  exclaimed.  "  W'y 
dady,  jes'  look  yere  at  de  flowers." 

"  Grasshoppers,  aint  da  ?"  said  Alf,  slyly 
winking  at  Potter. 

"  You  know  da  aint.  Whut  you  come 
talk  dat  way  fur,  say  ?"  She  took  hold  of 
his  ears  with  a  tender  pretense  of  anger, 
and  shook  his  head.  "  I'll  1'arn  you  how 
ter  talk  dater  way  'bout  deze  flowers.  W'y 
da's  so  much  like  sho  nuff  flowers  dat  I 
ken  almos'  smell  de  'fume.  Look  yere 
dady,  we  mus'  git  Mr.  Potter  suthin'  ter 
eat" 

"Aint  I  dun  heatin'  de  skillet?"  Alf 
replied.  "  Cose  I  is."  He  went  to  a  box, 
which,  nailed  up  against  the  wall,  served 
as  a  "cubbard,"  and  took  out  several 
pieces  of  white-looking  meat. 

"  What  sort  of  meat  do  you  call  that  ?" 
Potter  asked. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  43 

"  Dis,  sah,"  Alf  rejoined,  as  he  began 
to  dip  the  meat  into  a  tin  plate  containing 
flour,  "  is  some  slices  offen  de  breast  o'  one 
o'  de  fines'  turkey  gobblers  I  eber  seed. 
John  ken  tell  you  how  it  got  here." 

"  I  wuz  plowin'  'long  jest  before  dinner," 
said  John,  "  an'  I  hearn  the  gentleman  gob- 
blin'  out  in  the  woods.  I  wuz  sorter  'ston- 
ished,  too,  fur  it's  gittin'  putty  late  in  the 
season  fur  turkeys  ter  be  struttin'  erbout. 
I  slipped  to  the  house  an'  got  my  rifle  an' 
went  into  the  woods  airter  him.  He  wuz 
so  high  up  in  er  tree  that  he  didn't  pay  no 
'tention  ter  me,  not  b'lievin'  I  could  reach 
him,  I  reckon,  but  I  drawed  a  bead  on 
his  head  an'  down  he  come." 

"  I  am  glad  you  got  him,"  Potter  replied. 
"  You  are  an  excellent  shot,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Wall,  I  mout  not  hit  er  pin-head,  but 
I  reckon  I  could  hit  er  steer." 

"  Mr.  Potter,"  said  Alf,  as  he  stood  over 
the  fire  frying  the  turkey  breast,  "  wush  I 
had  axed  you  ter  fetch  de  ole  man  some 
fiddle  strings." 

"Well,   if   I   didn't  bring  you  some  I 


44  Up  Terrapin  River. 

hope,  as  John's  aunt  would  say,  '  I  may 
never  stir  agin.'  Here  they  are." 

"Wall,  fo'  greshus,  ef  you  ain't  de 
thoughtfules'  white  man  I  eber  seed. 
Thankee,  sah,  thankee.  Man  mus'  almos' 
be  'spired  ter  think  erbout  ever'thing  diser 
way.  Now,  sah,  we  gwirie  ter  hab  some 
music  in  dis  yere  house.  Bible  say  er  man 
kaint  lib  by  meat  an'  bread  by  itse'f ;  means 
dat  folks  aughter  hab  er  little  music.  Ole 
Mars  David  uster  play  on  er  harp,  an7  I 
lay  he  done  it  well,  too." 

"  The  fiddle  is  your  favorite  instrument, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"  You  shoutin-  now.  De  ho'n  is  er 
mule  an'  brays ;  de  banger  is  er  chicken 
dat  clucks ;  de  'cordeon  is  er  dog  dat 
whines ;  de  flute  is  er  sheep  dat  blates, 
but  de  fiddle  is  er  man  dat  praises  de 
Lawd.  De  fiddle,  sah,  is  de  human  bein' 
o'  instrumen's.  Now,  set  up  yere  ter  de 
table,  fur  yo'  supper's  ready." 

"Is  that  rain  ?"  Potter  remarked,  as  he 
drew  his  chair  up  to  the  box. 

"  Yas,    sah,    an'  we'se   needin'   it,  too. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  45 

Look  at  John,  how  he's  handlirf  dem 
books.  Gwine  read  'em  atter  while,  ain't 
you,  John  ?" 

"Yes,  an'  I  hope  befo'  long,  too.  Ef 
stickin'  to  it  counts  for  anything,  I  know 
I  will.  I'd  ruther  have  er  good  education, 
than  ter  have  money,  an'  horses,  an'  fine 
clothes." 

"You  shall  have  it,  my  dear  boy," 
Potter  replied.  The  truest  friends  of  this 
life  are  books.  With  them  every  man  is 
a  king  ;  without  them  every  man  is  a  slave. 
The  mind  is  God-given,  and  every  good 
book  bears  the  stamp  of  divinity.  Books 
are  the.  poor  man's  riches — the  tramp's 
magnificent  coach.  I  would  rather  live  in 
a  prison  where  there  are  books,  than  in  a 
palace  destitute  of  them." 

"  Dat's  all  mighty  well,  Mr.  Potter,"  Alf 
interposed,  "but  yo'  vidults  gettin'  cold. 
Books  ain'  gwine  keep  er  man's  supper 
warm.  Look  at  John.  Heb'l'ebes  ever' 
word  you  say,  an'  I  doan'  know  but  you'se 
right  myse'f,  but  books  ain't  all.  Er  good 
heart  is  better  den  er  book.  Look,  my 


46  Up  Terrapin  River. 

little  gal  is  settin'  dar  fas'  ersleep,  wid  dat 
caliker  coat  in  her  arms.  I  mus'  put  her 
ter  bed.  Ah,  little  angel,"  he  added,  as 
he  took  her  up  in  his  arms,  "you  is  de 
only  book  dat  yo'  po'  daddy  reads.  Ter 
him  you  is  de  book  o'  dis  life.  All  yo' 
leaves  is  got  love  an'  tenderness  writ  on 
'em.  God  bless  you."  He  went  into  the 
other  room,  and  closed  the  door. 

A  heavy  rain  fell  during  the  remainder 
of  the  night,  and  at  morning,  as  the  soil 
was  too  wet  to  be  worked,  Potter  suggested 
the  advisability  of  a  fishing  expedition. 

"Jule,  you  ain't  erfeerd  ter  stay  by 
yo'se'f,  air  you  ?"  John  asked,  when  all  the 
arrangements  had  been  made. 

"  Cose  I  ain't ;  an'  'sides  dat,  de  Lawd 
ain't  gwine  let  nobody  hurt  er  po'  crippled 
up  chile  ez  I  is." 

"  Your  simple  faith  is  beautiful,"  said 
Potter. 

"  Dar  ain't  no  true  faith,  sah,  dat  ain't 
simple,"  Alf  rejoined. 

"  You  are  right,"  Potter  responded,  "  for 
when  faith  ceases  to  be  simple,  it  becomes 


Up  Terrapin  River.  47 

a  showy  pretense.  Well,  is  everything 
ready?" 

"Yes,  sah.  We'll  go  erbout  er  mile  up 
de  riber,  whar  dar  is  er  good  hole,  an'  den 
feesh  up  de  stream." 

The  clouds  had  rolled  away,  and  the 
day  was  as  bright  as  a  Christian's  smile. 
The  mocking-bird,  influenced  .to  sportive 
capers,flew  high  in  the  air,  poured  out  an 
impulsive  rhapsody,  and  then  pretended  to 
fall.  Down  the  gullies,  spider  webs, 
catching  the  glare  of  the  sun,  shone  like 
mirrors. 

They  soon  reached  the  "  hole  "  of  which 
Alf  had  spoken,  but  the  fish  would  not 
bite. 

"  I'll  tell  you  de  reason,"  said  the  old 
negro.  "  Dis  water  is  still  risin'.  You 
kaint  'suade  er  feesh  ter  bite  while  de 
water's  risin',  but  soon  ez  it  'gins  ter  fall, 
w'y  da'll  grab  deze  hooks  like  er  chicken 
pickin'  up  co'n.  HoP  him,  John,  hoi'  him. 
Fo'  greshus,  dat  boy  dun  hung  er  whale. 
Play  him  roun'  diserway.  Doan  pull  him 
too  hard,  you'll  break  yo'  line.  Swing 


48  Up  Terrapin  River. 

co'nerswid  him;  dat's  right.  Wait ;  lemme 
git  hold  de  line.  Yere  he  is.  Monst'ous 
channel  cat.  Uh,  whut  er  beauty.  Weigh 
ten  pounds  ef  he'll  weigh  er  ounce." 

"  Good  for  you,  John,"  said  Potter. 

"Good  fur  us  all,"  replied  Alf,  "fur  I 
gwine  ter  put  dat  feesh  on  ter  cook  ez 
soon  ez  I  ken  make  er  fire  an'  git  him 
ready." 

"  It  is  a  pity  we  forgot  to  bring  a  frying 
pan,"  Potter  remarked. 

"  Doan  need  one,  sah." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  cook  him, 
then  ?" 

"You  jest  wait,"  said  Alf,  as  he  begun 
preparations  for  building  a  fire. 

When  he  had  made  the  fire,  he  killed 
the  fish  and  dressed  it. 

"Are  you  not  going  to  skin  it  ?"  Potter 
asked. 

"  You  jest  wait  erwhile,  now.  Neber 
seeb  sech  eatin'  in  yo'  life  ez  we'se  gwine 
ter  hab." 

He  dug  some  clay  from  a  bank,  poured 
water  upon  it,  and  begun  to  knead  it. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  49 

Then  he  took  a  piece  of  paper,  wrapped 
the  fish  in  it,  and  then  put  on  a  thick 
coating  of  clay. 

"See  ;  now  I  gwine  ter  put  him  right 
yere  in  de  fire,  an'  let  him  cook  erbout 
two  hours,  an'  den  we'll  crack  his  shell." 

They  threw  out  their  lines  again,  but 
the  fish  would  not  bite. 

"  It  ain't  no  use  tryin,"  Alf  declared. 
"  Da  ain't  gwine  ter  bite  till  de  water 
ginter  fall." 

"Why  did  one  of  them  bite?"  Potter 
asked. 

"  Caze  he  didn'  hab  ernuff  sense  ter 
know  dat  de  water  want  fallin',  sah.  You 
mer  jest  put  it  down  fur  er  fack  dat  when 
er  feesh  bites  when  de  water's  risin',  he 
ain't  got  no  sense." 

"  We  don't  kere  whuther  they've  got 
any  sense  or  not,  so  long  as  they  bite," 
John  remarked. 

"You're  right  dar;  plum  right.  I'd 
ruther  know  dat  er  feesh  no  longer  den 
my  han'  would  bite,  den  ter  know  dat  one 
ez  big  ez  me  wuz  smart  ernuff  ter  preach. 

4 


50  Up  Terrapin  River. 

Wall,  ef  dat  boy  ain't  dun  fotch  dat  book 
wid  him." 

"A  good  idea,  John,"  said  Potter.  We'll 
sit  up  there  under  that  rock,  and  while 
the  fish  is  cooking  we  will  study  our 
lesson." 

So  intent  was  the  boy  in  this,  his  initia 
tive  step  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  that 
time  seemed  to  take  the  wings  of  the 
sparrow-hawk  and  swiftly  sail  away. 

Alf  called  them  to  dinner.  "  See,"  said 
the  negro,  ''all  I  had  ter  do  wuz  ter  crack 
his  shell.  You  axed  me  ef  I  want  gwine 
ter  skin  him.  See,  de  skin  peels  right  off 
wid  de  paper.  Openin'  yo'  eyes  in  'ston-  i 
ishment,  is  you  ?  Jest  wait  till  you  taste 
him.  Set  down  on  de  rock,  an'  lemme 
he'p  you  ter  er  monst'ous  piece.  Sprinkle 
er  little  salt  on  him,  dis  way.  Now,  how 
do  he  go  ?" 

"  Best  fish  I  ever  tasted,  I  must  say." 

"  Cose  he  is.  All  de  flaber  kep'  in  by 
dat  clay." 

"  If  we  had  brought  our  guns  along,  we 
might  have  had  some  squirrels." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  5  i 

"  Not  lessen  we'd  fotch  cle  dog  ter  tree 


'em." 


"  Well,  we  might  have  brought  the 
dog." 

"  No,  fur  it's  bad  luck  ter  take  er  dog 
wid  you  er  feeshin'.  Dat's  de  reason  I  driv 
Ole  Pete  back.  Tuck  er  dog  feeshin'  wid 
me  wunst  an'  it  want  mo'  den  er  week 
airter  dat  till  I  tuck  de  dew  pizen  in  one 
o'  my  feet." 

"  Not  because  you  took  the  dog,  Alf, 
but  because  you  went  in  the  dew." 

"  Dar  mout  be  suthin  in  dat  fack,  sah, 
but  I  know  dat  airterwards  I  went  feeshin' 
widout  takin'  de  dog  an'  soon  got  well  o' 
de  pizen.  Tell  you  whut  we  better  do 
airter  we  git  done  eatin'.  Better  go  'bout 
er  mile  up  de  riber  ter  er  place  whar  de 
bass  will  bite  like  er  settin'  hen.  De 
water  will  be  fallin'  by  dat  time.  Dar's 
er  bend  in  the  riber  right  up  yander,  an' 
we  ken  cut  off  er  good  many  steps  by 
goin'  through  de  bottom." 

They  started  immediately  after  dinner, 
and  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  into 

4 


52  Up  Terrapin  River. 

the  "bottom/  when  old  Alf  stopped,  took 
off  his  hat,  and  said  : 

"  Dar  now,  dat  do  settle  it,  sho." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  Potter  asked. 

"  Doan  you  yere  dem  wolves  ?  My 
greshus,  whut  er  pack  it  is,  too.  Lissen." 

"  I  hear  them  now,"  said  Potter.  "  Do 
you  hear  them,  John  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  have  been  hearin'  em  fur 
some  time,  but  didn't  zackly  know  whut 
they  was.  It  ain't  common  that  they 
come  inter  this  neighborhood." 

"  No,"  Alf  rejoined  ;  "  an'  it  won't  be 
common  dat  we'll  go  anywhar  airter  dis 
day  lessen  we  make  some  mighty  fast 
preparations.  'Tain't  no  use'n  us  tryin' 
ter  run  erway,  Mr.  Potter,  fur  da'd  ketch 
us  'fo'  we  got  ha'f  er  mile.  We'll  hatter 
climb  up  er  tree  an'  wait  till  da  goes  erway. 
De  only  trouble  is  da  mout  keep  us  yere 
till  we  starve  ter  death.  Da's  gittin'  yere. 
Hop  up  in  er  tree." 

Potter  and  Alf  climbed  one  tree;  John 
sought  refuge  in  another  one  a  short  dis 
tance  away.  The  howling  grew  louder 


Up  Terrapin  River.  53 

and  louder.  Alf  declared  that  the  wolves 
must  be  nearly  starved  or  they  would  not 
cut  up  such  "shines  "  in  daylight.  A  small 
open  space  that  lay  between  the  two  trees 
was  soon  alive  with  the  howling,  snarling, 
and  snapping  "varmints,"  as  Alf  termed 
them.  Occasionally  some  bold  leader 
would  leap  high  in  the  air  and  snap  at  the 
men  ;  others  busied  themselves  with  gnaw 
ing  at  the  trees. 

"Did'n'  I  tell  you  it  wuz  bad  luck  ter 
bring  er  dog  er  feeshin?"  said  Alf. 

"Yes,"  Potter  replied;  "but  what  new 
fact  has  caused  you  to  speak  of  it  again  ? 
The  dog  did  not  come  with  us,  yet  we 
have  the  bad  luck  of  being  treed  by 
wolves." 

"Yas,  sah,  yas ;  but  if  dat  dog  wuz 
yere  deze  wolves  would  eat  him  up,  an'  dat 
would  be  monst'ous  bad  luck  fur  him. 
How  I  do  wush  I  had  my  gun.  I  wouldn' 
ax  fur  nuthin'  sweeter  den  ter  set  up  yere 
an'  blow  de  life  outen  deze  raskils.  How 
you  gittin'  long  ober  dar,  John  ?" 

"  Fust  rate  ;  but  I'd  be  enjoyin'  myse'f 


54  Up  Terrapin  River. 

er  good  deal  better  ef  I  had  my  rifle.  How 
I'd  like  ter  draw  er  bead  on  that  whopper  ; 
that  old  shaggy  feller." 

"  Laws  er  massy,  how  I  would.  He's 
er  ole  pollertician,  he  is,  an'  I  lay  he  gits 
ever'  vote  in  de  croud.  Bet  he  ain't  been 
de  sheriff  o'  de  den  no  less  'en  er  dozen 
times.  I — whut  de  matter  wid  'em  ?" 

Suddenly  the  wolves  with  one  impulse 
ceased  their  howling,  "  tucked  "  their  tails, 
and  ran  away. 

"  A  very  gentlemanly  act,"  Potter  ex 
claimed.  "  Now  we  can  get  down  from 
these  uncomfortable  perches." 

"  Hoi'  on,"  cried  Alf.  "  Set  right  whar 
you  is,  fur  dar's  suthen  wus  den  wolves 
round  yere  now.  Look  dar !  Lawd  an' 
de  mussyful  hebens  proteck  us  !" 

Two  enormous  panthers  bounded  into 
the  open  space.  They  cast  quick  glances 
in  the  direction  which  the  wolves  had 
taken,  and  then,  turning  about,  bent  their 
fiery  gaze  on  Potter  and  the  old  negro. 
Potter  turned  pale,  and,  addressing  Alf, 
said  :  "Old  man,  we  are  doomed.  They 


Up  Terrapin  River.  55 

will  never  leave  us  until  their  awful  mouths 
are  stained  with  our  blood." 

"Oh,  Lawd,"  the  old  negro  cried,  "look 
down  yere  an'  see  de  awful  fix  yo'  po' 
servant  dun  got  inter.  Lawd,  da  gwine 
ter  chaw  de  life  outen  yo'  po'  servant. 
Lawd,  de  bigges'  one  got  his  eyes  dead 
set  on  yo'  po'  servant.  Where '11  I  be  dis 
time  ter  mor'.  Oh,  Mr.  Potter,  how  I 
wush  I  wuz  at  de  house  drinkin'  butter 
milk.  Lawd,  yo'  ole  servant  wushes  you'd 
strike  deze  pant'ers  wid  lightnin'.  Oh, 
Lawd,  I'd  ruther  die  den  ter  be  killed  by 
er  pant'er." 

The   panthers  stood   gazing   at   them. 

Potter's  pallor  was  gone,  and  on  his 
face  there  rested  an  expression  of  resigna 
tion.  "If  they  intend  to  do  anything," 
said  he,  "  I  wish  they  would  not  put  it  off 
any  longer.  This  delay  is  awful." 

"Oh,  doansaydat,  Mr.  Potter;  oh,  sweet 
Mr.  Potter,  doan  say  dat.  Doan  make 
no  sich  subjestions  ter  'em,  fur  doan  you 
see  da's  jes'  waitin'  fur  dar  mines  ter  git 
made  up.  My  greshus,  I  ken  feel  dat 


56  Up  Terrapin  River. 

monster's  eyes.  Da  burns  inter  my  flesh. 
Da  ain't  payin'  no  'tendon  ter  John.  Look 
yere,  dat  boy  ain't  in  de  tree  !" 

"  That's  a  fact,"  Potter  cried.  "What 
do  you  suppose  has  become  of  him  ?" 

"  God  bless  him,  he's  slipped  down  an' 
is  gone  home  atrter  er  gun.  Oh,  Lawd, 
gib  de  rabbit's  mobement  ter  his  legs. 
Let  him  leap  ober  rocks  an'  gullies  like  er 
fox.  Dar  ain't  much  hope  fur  us,  though, 
Mr.  Potter,  fur  by  de  time  he  gits  back 
dem  May-apple  stalks  down  dar  will  be 
stained  wid  our  blood.  Da  won't  wait  no 
longer  den  sundown,  nohow,  an'  see,  de 
sun  ain't  high.  Ef  John — mussyful  heb- 
ens !" 

One  of  the  panthers  had  run  forward, 
but  he  only  sniffed  the  air  at  the  root  of 
the  tree  and  then  returned  to  his  compan 
ion. 

"  Dat's  right,  good  Lawd,  hold  de 
monster  back,  an'  please  doan  let  him 
stick  his  nose  ergin  dis  tree  no  mo'.  Look 
at  'em  watchin'  de  sun.  Da's  sorter  skit 
tish  o'  de  bright  blaze,  but  when  de  blaze 


Up  Terrapin  River.  57 

goes  out  an'  de  red  glow  comes,  den 
suthen'  redder  will  be  poured  on  de 
groun'.  It  will  be  our  blood.  Oh,  Lawd, 
dat  raskil  is  lookin'  harder  an'  harder  at 
yo'  po'  servant.  Wush  I  had  er  went  ter 
er  camp  meetin'  summers  'stead  o'  cumin' 
yere  ter  day,  but,  Lawd,  it's  allus  de  way 
wid  er  po'  weak  man.  He's  allus  treadin' 
de  path  dat  leads  ter  'struckshun.  Wush 
I  wuz  plowin'  right  now,  eben  ef  de 
groun'  is  too  wet.  I'd  ruther  be  anywhar 
—anything.  Wush  I  wuz  er  'oman  er 
takin'  in  washin'  fur  er  livin'.  Wush  I 
wuz  er  gal  er  patchin'  geans  britches." 

"  I  hope  John  will  bring  my  Winchester 
rifle,"  said  Potter. 

"  He'll  do  dat,  sah  ;  he'll  do  dat." 

"  But  do  you  suppose  he  knows  how  to 
use  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  sah  ,  he's  seed  'em  befo'.  Oh. 
Lawd,  doan  furgit  whut  er  awful  fix  yo' 
po'  servant  is  in.  Dat  sun  goin'  down 
mighty  fas'.  Look  how  da  watchin'  it." 

It  did  seem  as  if  the  panthers  stole  an 
occasional  and  anxious  glance  at  the  sun. 


58  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  De  fust  pant'ers  Fse  seed  in  dis  yere 
'munity  fur  er  mighty  long  time,"  old  Alf 
went  on,  in  his  prayerful  way,  "  an'  I 
wushes,  Lawd,  dat  I  neber  had  seed  deze. 
Wush  I  wuz  er  boy  in  er  swimin'  under 
some  shady  tree.  Oh,  Lawd,  de  raskil 
dun  looked  at  de  sun  ergin." 

He  kept  up  a  ceaseless  flow  of  suppli 
cation.  The  sun  seemed  to  sink  rapidly. 
The  shadows  of  the  May-apple  stalks 
were  getting  longer  and  longer.  The 
panthers  became  restless.  The  old  negro's 
prayer  increased  in  earnestness.  One  of 
the  panthers,  the  male,  ran  back  a  short 
distance,  then  coming  forward  with  mighty 
bounds,  sprang  high  in  the  air  and  caught 
the  body  of  the  tree. 

Bang! 

The  panther  fell  to  the  ground.  The 
other  one  ran  forward,  touched,  with  her 
bristly  lips,  her  dead  companion's  blood, 
and  then  springing  up,  caught  the  body  of 
the  tree. 

Bang! 

"Thank   de   Lawd;  thank  de    Lawd!" 


Up  Terrapin  River.  59 

cried  Alf,  as  he  began  to  scramble  down ; 
"thank  de  Lawd." 

He  seized  John  in  his  arms.  "Oh,  de 
Lawd  ain't  gwine  ter  let  his  chillun  suffrr 
long.  Yas,  Mr.  Potter,  take  holter  dis 
young  pussun.  Dat's  right,  hug  him,  but 
look  out,  for  you'se  monst'ous  strong.  Bless 
us,  de  chile  come  back  on  er  hoss.  Shed- 
din' tears,  too.  Huh,  I  com  in'. back  yere 
termor'  an'  skin  deze  genermen.  Frien's, 
jes'  wait  er  minit  till  I  git  down  on  my 
knees  an'  pray." 

John  and  Potter  removed  their  hats. 
The  old  negro  sank  down  upon  his  knees, 
raised  his  clasped  hands,  and  delivered  in 
these  words  his  simple  prayer:  "Lawd, 
whuteber  happens  un'er  yo'  count'nance  is 
right,  but  we  do  thank  thee  fur  dis  adc  o' 
hebenly  mussy.  Amen." 


60  Up  Terrapin  River. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

The  glare  of  summer  was  softened  into 
the  glow  of  autumn.  In  the  field  the 
dry  corn-blades,  gently  stirring,  hoarsely 
whispered ;  and  the  grasshopper,  stiffened 
by  the  chilling  dew,  sat  on  the  pumpkin 
where  the  sunlight  fell.  The  mornings 
were  rosy,  the  noontide  shone  with  a 
deeper  red,  but  the  evenings  came,  se 
renely  stealing,  it  seemed,  out  of  the 
heavily-wooded  land,  spreading  over  the 
fields  and  creeping  along  the  hill-sides 
where  the  bell-cow  rang  ker  melancholy 
curfew. 

John  was  a  devoted  student,  and  Potter, 
almost  as  much  interested,  was  never  too 
tired  to  assist  him.  "  Don't  sit  up  too 
late,  John,"  the  giant  would  sometimes 
say.  "  To-morrow  night,  remember,  will 
soon  be  here." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  61 

Alf,  delighted  to  know  that  his  violin 
did  not  disturb  the  cause  of  education, 
mainly  spent  his  evenings  with  that  instru 
ment.  One  night,  with  sudden  enthusiasm, 
he  exclaimed  : 

"  Look  yere,  Mr.  Potter,  I  wants  er 
little  o'  dat  edycation  merse'f.  Gimme 
holt  o'  dat  book  er  minit.  Now  show  me 
erj." 

"  There  is  one,"  Potter  replied,  pointing 
out  the  letter. 

"  Is  you  sho  dat's  er  J  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Potter,  smiling  at  John. 

4<  No  chance  whuteber  fur  er  mistake  in 
dis  yere  matter  ?" 

"  None  at  all." 

"  Uh,  huh.  So  dis  yere  is  de  J  dat  I'se 
hearn  so  much  erbout.  An'  yere's  er 
nuder  one.  I  tell  you  dis  yere  book 
couldn'  git  er  long  widout  de  J.  Whut's 
dis  yere  one  ?" 

"  That  is  an  S,v  Potter  replied. 

11  Is  you  sho  it  is  er  S  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Wall,  wall ;  so  yere's  de  S  dat's  been 


62  Up  Terrapin  River. 

er  dodgen  me  fur  sich  er  long  time  ;  but  I 
got  him  now." 

"  Here  is  an  L,"  said  Potter. 

"  I  doan  kere  nothin'  'bout  dat,"  Alf  said, 
closing  the  book.  "  I  wouldn'  git  outen 
de  way  ef  I  wuz  ter  meet  er  L  in  de  road. 
De  J  an'  de  S  wuz  whut  I  was  airter." 

"  Do  you  not  want  to  know  the  other 
letters  ?" 

"  No,  sah ;  I  dun  got  ernuff.  Airter 
wile,  ef  de  J  an  S  wars  out,  I  niotit  call 
fur  some  more,  but  I'se  fixed  ez  long  ez 
da  lasts.  Jule,  wouldn'  you  like  ter  know 
er  bout  de  J  ?" 

11 1  knows  'em  all,"  the  girl  replied. 

"  Take  ere  ;  take  ere.  I  neber  did  see 
so  much  edycation  ;  man  kaint  step  round 
yere  widout  trampin'  on  it." 

"  These  cool  days,  when  we  have  no 
important  work  to  perform,"  said  Potter, 
"  can  be  well  spent." 

"  Mine  shall  be,"  John  responded.  How 
long  will  it  be,  you  reckon,  before  I  ken 
stop  this  sort  uv  splashin'  with  these  books, 
an*  jump  right  in  an'  swim." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  63 

'*  Not  a  great  while.  You  must  lay  the 
worm  rail,  you  know,  before  you  can 
build  the  fence.  In  truth,  you  learn  more 
rapidly  than  anyone  else  I  ever  knew  ;  and 
sometimes,  while  watching  your  progress, 
I  can  not  help  but  look  back  with  pity 
upon  the  snail-like  movements  of  my  early 
efforts." 

"Oh,  dar  ain't  no  question  'bout  dat 
boy  1'arnin',"  Alf  exclaimed.  "  Er  boy 
dat  1'arned  ter  break  er  colt  ez  easy  ez  he 
did  one  time,  ain't  gwine  ter  hab  much 
trouble  wid  dis  S  an'  J  bizness.  Whut,  er 
boy  dat  ken  slip  down  outen  er  tree  widout 
er  quick-eyed  pant'er  seem'  him,  ain't  got 
sly  mubement  ernuff  ter  ketch  deze  yere 
books  er  nappin'  ?  Doan  know  dat  chile 
yit ;  doan  know  him." 

One  afternoon  while  Potter  and  John 
were  at  their  books,  and  while  Alf  was 
playing  on  his  fiddle  a  sort  of  accompani 
ment  to  a  doleful  tune  hummed  by  his 
daughter,  there  came  a  tapping  on  the 
facing  of  the  open  door. 

"  Come  in,"  Potter  called. 


64  Up  Terrapin  River. 

A  woman  and  a  girl  stepped  into  the 
room.  John  and  Potter  sprang  up  with 
the  quick  impulse  of  courtesy's  sudden 
demand,  and  offered  them  seats.  Alf  put 
down  his  fiddle,  and  bowing,  gave  the 
visitors  a  grinning  welcome. 

"  Where  are  your  women  folks  T  the 
elder  visitor  inquired. 

"  We  have  none,  madam,"  Potter  replied, 
"  except  this  girl,  the  daughter  of  this 
old " 

"  Servant  o'  the  Lawd,"  Alf  inter 
jected. 

"This  servant  of  the  Lord,"  Potter 
smilingly  repeated,  "  who  assists  us  in 
tending  our  crop,  and  who  is " 

"  Erbout  de  bes'  cook  in  dis  yere  neigh- 
borhood,"  Alf  again  broke  in. 

"  My  daughter  Eva  and  I  were  pass 
ing,"  said  the  woman,  and  having  noticed 
for  some  time  that  this  old  house  was  again 
inhabited,  decided  to  stop  and  investigate. 
We  live  about  five  miles  from  here,  on  the 
Sunset  road.  I  am  Mrs.  Lucy  Forest, 
widow  of  Henry  Forest,  who  died  several 


Up  Terrapin  River.  65 

years  ago.  You  have  heard  of  him.  of 
course." 

"  I  am  a  comparative  stranger  in  this 
neighborhood,"  Potter  replied. 

"  I  ricolleck  seein'  him,"  John  remarked. 
"  Uster  have  something  to  do  with  the 
Sunday-school  at  Mt.  Pleasant.  Alf 
knowed  him,  too,  I  reckon." 

"  Lawd  bless  me,  yas,"  Alf  exclaimed. 
"  I  dug  de  man's  grave." 

"  I  remember  you  now,"  Mrs.  Forest 
rejoined,  "and  I  remember  you,  too," 
addressing  John.  "Your  name,"  turning 
to  Potter,  "  is " 

"  Excuse  me  for  not  introducing  my 
self.  My  name  is  Potter." 

"  Well,  I  was  going  to  say  that  your 
name  was  Bradshaw,  and  that  I  had  seen 
you  before." 

"  Excuse  me  a  moment,"  said  Potter, 
"  I  see  your  horse  is  loose.  Let  me  go 
and  hitch  him  for  you." 

"  I'm  younger  than  you,  let  me  go," 
John  insisted. 

When   John    had   gone,    Mrs.    Forest, 

5 


66  Up  Terrapin  River. 

looking  after  him,  remarked:  "  That 
young  man  has  a  splendid  face.  Don't 
you  think  so,  Eva  ?" 

"  Yes ;  strong  and  expressive  of  true 
refinement,"  the  girl  replied.  Potter 
looked  in  admiration  upon  her.  She  was 
apparently  but  little  more  than  fifteen 
years  of  age,  but  in  form  was  well  advanced 
toward  graceful  womanhood.  Her  eyes 
were  large,  dark,  and  beautiful.  Her  hair 
was  as  threads  of  fine  and  blackest  silk, 
and  in  its  graceful  clustering,  romance,  it 
seemed,  had  found  a  lurking  place.  There 
was  not  a  ruddy  glow  upon  her  cheeks, 
but  with  a  creamy  shading  they  tended 
toward  paleness.  An  expression  of  quiet 
thought  lay  about  the  corners  of  her 
shapely  mouth,  but  on  her  forehead,  low 
and  broad,  fancy  traced  a  brightening 
picture. 

The  girl's  mother,  noticing  Potter's 
look,  which  had  now  almost  deepened  into 
a  gaze,  remarked:  "  I  don't  think  my 
daughter  is  looking  very  well.  For  some 
time  she  has  been  at  school  over  at  Sunset, 


Up  Terrapin  River.  67 

where  there  is  an  excellent  teacher,  but 
she  studied  so  hard  that  I  had  to  take 
her  away." 

4<  Mother,  please  don't  make  me  out  an 
invalid,  for  you  know  that  I  can  walk  long 
distances  and  climb  steep  hills  without 
fatigue." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  you  are  an 
invalid,  daughter  ;  but  you  know  yourself, 
Mr.  Brad — Mr.  Potter,  that  it  is  not  well 
for  one  so  young  to  be  so  devoted  to  books. 
It  was  her  father's  only  trouble — I  came 
near  saying  fault." 

"  It  was  his  greatest  pleasure,"  the  girl 
suggested. 

"  Yes ;  but  if  it  hadn't  been  for  books 
he  might  have  been  a  successful  business 
man,  and  we  might  not  have  been  com 
pelled  to  leave  our  home  in  Tennessee, 
where  I  was  so  contented,  and  settle  in 
this  out-of-the-way  place,  and,  of  neces 
sity,  take  up  ignorance  for  our  neigh 
bors." 

"  His  neighbors,  the  few  books  which 
he  saved,  are  not  ignorant,"  the  girl 
a 


68  Up  Terrapin  River. 

replied.  "  He  loved  them,  found  them 
true,  and  left  them  friends  to  me." 

"  Yes,  child,  yes  ;  I  know  all  that ;  but 
it  was  a  hardship  on  me,  and  since  his 
death  the  cultivation  of  the  farm  has  given 
me  no  end  of  trouble.  Oh,  I  like  books 
well  enough,  but  unless  we  can  write  them 
they  don't  make  us  a  living." 

"  But,"  said  Potter,  "  they  reduce  a 
dreary  and  barren  hour  into  a  minute  of 
ripe  delight." 

The  girl  clapped  her  hands.  I  thank 
you  for  so  bright  a  defense,"  she  ex 
claimed. 

"  Oh,  when  you  come  ter  talk  erbout 
books,"  said  Alf,  "  Mr.  Potter  he  plum  dar. 
Got  er  big  luther-kivered  book  yere  dat 
he  read  mighty  nigh  all  de  time." 

"The  Bible  I  hope,"  Mrs.  Forest  re 
marked. 

"  The  Bible  often,  Mrs.  Forest,  but  the 
book  to  which  he  refers  is  the  Bible's 
wise,  though  sometimes  sportive,  child — 
Shakespeare." 

John    re-entered   the  room.     "  There's 


Up  Terrapin  River.  69 

comin'  up  a  shower,"  said  he,  "  an'  I  took 
the  horse  to  the  stable." 

"  It  is  fortunate  that  we  stopped,  even 
though  there  are  no  women  folks,"  Mrs. 
Forest  replied. 

Eva  turned  to  John.  "  This  room  has 
somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  school," 
she  said. 

"  It  is  a  school  to  me,"  John  answered. 

"  You  are  anxious  to  learn,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  so  anxious  that  the  time,  it  'pears 
like,  flies  away  befo1  I  Tarn  anything." 

"  Time  will  seem  kinder  after  awhile, 
for  then  you  will  be  more  able  to  employ 
it.  When  you  want  books  that  are  full 
of  interest,  come  over  to  our  house." 

Rain  began  to  pour  down.  A  fright 
ened  quail  fluttered  past  the  door.  A 
baffled  hawk  screamed  in  anger.  A  rab 
bit  ran  into  the  yard  and  squatted  under  an 
old  and  tangled  rose-bush.  The  rain 
ceased.  The  rabbit  shook  himself  and 
ran  away.  The  hawk  screamed  in  anger. 

"It  is  time  we  were  going,  daughter," 
said  Mrs.  Forest  when  a  stream  of  sun- 


70  Up  Terrapin  River. 

light  came  through  the  window.  "  Will 
you  please  get  our  horse?"  she  added, 
addressing  John. 

John  bowed,  rather  awkwardly,  perhaps, 
yet  with  not  a  bad  show  of  courtesy,  and 
hurried  away  to  execute  the  commission. 

11  Mrs.  Forest,"  said  Potter,  "we  do  not 
live  so  far  apart  but  that  we  might  be 
more  neighborly  in  the  future." 

"  Why,  surely  not,"  Mrs.  Forest  replied. 
"  You  will  find  everyone  neighborly  in 
this  part  of  the  country.  Many  of  the 
people  have  nothing,  you  might  say, 
except  a  neighborly  disposition." 

When  the  visitors  were  gone,  and  when 
John  had  again  taken  up  his  book,  Potter 
remarked:  "  Excellent  people,  I  warrant 
you.  What  do  you  think  of  that  young 
lady,  John  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  She's  so  fur  away 
frum  me,  it  'pears  like  that  I  can't  think 
about  her  at  all.  Mr.  Potter,  do  you 
think  I'm  learnin'  how  to  talk  any  better 
than  I  did  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  very  rapidly,   too ;  but  the 


Up  Terrapin  River.  71 

book  which  you  are  of  necessity  studying 
now,  can  only  serve  you  in  a  preliminary 
way — I  mean  that  what  you  are  studying 
now,  will  prepare  you  for  grammar,  and 
grammar  will  lead  you  into  the  excellen 
cies  of  speech." 

"  Look  yere,"  said  Alf,  "  its  erbout  time 
I  wuz  er  slicin'  off  our  names,  an'  er  puttin' 
'em  in  de  pot.  I  keep  er  tellin'  you,  dat 
edycation  gittin'  powerful  thick  round 
yere,  but  huh,  when  er  man's  hungry,  he'd 
ruther  yere  suthin'  er  singin'  in  er  skillet 
den  ter  fool  wid  er  book,  I  doan'  kere  how 
many  picters  it  got  in  it.  I'll  take  deze 
yere  squirl's  dat  we  picked  often  dem 
hickory  trees  dis  mawnin',  an'  putty  soon 
you'll  yere  er  song  in  dat  fryin'  pan  dat'll 
make  you  genermen  drap  dem  books.  I'se 
dun  blowed  my  ho'n." 

Early  the  next  morning,  before  Potter 
and  John  had  got  out  of  bed,  Alf  came 
bustling  into  the  room,  bringing  the 
appearance  of  great  excitement.  "  Gener 
men,"  he  exclaimed,  "  dis  ain't  no  time  ter 
lie  yere!" 


72  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  Potter  demanded. 
11  What  has  happened  ;  can't  you  speak  ?" 

"  Cose  I  ken  speak.  Ef  I  couldn' 
speak,  I  couldn'  tell  you  dat  dis  ain't  no 
time  ter  lay  yere.  Whut's  happened  ?  B'ar 
tracks,  sah ;  dat's  whut's  happened.  I 
wus  down  in  the  fiel'  jes'  now  ter  see  ef  I 
could  find  any  dem  raskil  coons  t'arin' 
down  de  co'n,  an'  all  at  once  I  come  ter 
er  place  so  tangled  wid  stalks  dat,  fo' 
greshus,  I  dun  thought  er  whirlwin'  hit  de 
co'n,  but  den  it  wuz  all  splained,  fur  dar 
wuz  b'ar  tracks  mighty  nigh  ez  big  ez  er 
ham.  Huh,  I  dun  thought  somebody  dun 
been  goin'  long  dar  er  hittin'  de  groun' 
wid  er  maul.  Let's  git  er  bite  ter  eat  ez 
soon  ez  we  ken,  an'  foller  de  ole  scounul." 

Immediately  after  breakfast  they  set 
out  *to  look  for  the  bear.  The  tracks  in 
the  field  proclaimed  him  to  be  of  mon 
strous  size.  Pete,  Alf's  dog,  well  under 
stood  the  importance  of  the  pursuit. 
They  followed  the  trail  a  long  distance 
up  the  river,  and  then  into  a  dense  cane- 
brake. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  73 

"  Mr.  Potter,  did  you  ever  kill  a  bear?" 
John  asked. 

"  No  ;  the  truth  is  I  have  never  seen  a 
wild  one.  You  have  killed  a  number  of 
them,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  but  I  shot  one  last  winter, 
but  he  got  away.  My  gun  don't  carry  a 
ball  large  enough,  I  reckon,  unless  I  mout 
hit  him  in  the  eye." 

"  Yere's  de  ole  lady  dat  totes  de  ball," 
said  Alf,  affectionately  tapping  the  barrel 
of  his  army  gun.  "  Doan  kere  whar  I  hit 
one  o'  em,  he  gwine  squeal,  lemme  tell 
you.  Jes'  look  at  ole  Pete,  how  he  prance. 
He  uster  be  er  mighty  fine  b'ar  dog,  but 
he  ain't  seed  one  in  so  long,  dat  I'se  almos' 
afeerd  dat  he  dun  furgot  how  ter  keep 
outen  de  way.  B'ar  git  er  holt  o'  er  dog 
an'  dat  dog's  gone,  I  tell  you.  Le's  stop 
right  yere,  an'  let  him  go  on  out  in  yan- 
der."  ' 

The  dog  ran  forward,  becoming  more 
and  more  excited.  The  trail  was  evidently 
warm.  The  dog  barked  some  distance 
away.  "  Hoi'  on,"  said  the  old  negro. 


74  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  Lissun  er  minut'."  Another  bark;  fol 
lowed  by  a  distressing  howl.  Alf  sprang 
forward.  Potter  and  John  followed  as 
rapidly  as  they  could  through  the  tangled 
cane.  After  a  tiresome  struggle,  they 
came  to  a  small  open  space.  There  lay 
the  dog,  dead.  The  old  negro  dropped 
his  gun,  got  down  on  his  knees,  and  lifted 
the  animal's  bleeding  head.  It  was  some 
time  before  the  old  negro  spoke.  His 
companions,  respecting  a  grief  which  they 
saw  was  deep  and  stirring,  remained 
silent.  At  length  old  Alf  said:  "  Po'  ole 
frien'.  Too  ole  an'  stiff  in  de  j'ints  ter  git 
outen  de  way.  We's  all  gittin'  dat  way, 
ole  frien'.  We'se  gittin'  so  ole  an'  stiff 
dat  we  kaint  git  outen  de  way  o'  trouble 
w'en  we  sees  it  comin'  down  de  road.  Gen- 
ermen,  I  lubed  dis  yere  po'  dog.  He 
didn'  know  nuthin'  but  ter  lub  me.  He 
neber  seed  nuthin'  wrong  wid  de  ole  man. 
No  matter  whut  I  done,  it  wuz  all  right 
ter  him.  But  he  gone  now — I  doan  know 
whar — but  he's  gone.  Lemme  tell  you, 
though  (arising  and  taking  up  his  gun), 


Up  Terrapin  River.  75 

suthin'  gwine  suffer  fur  dis.  Mr.  Potten 
you  an'  John  go  roun'  dat  way,  an'  I  go 
dis.  Ef  you  hear  my  gun,  come  ter  me. 
Ef  I  hear  yo'n,  I'll  come." 

They  separated.  "  I  feel  sorry  for  the 
old  fellow,"  Potter  remarked.  "  He's  a 
man  of  very  deep  affections,  with  all  his 
African  peculiarities.  Indeed,  he  has 
feelings  finer  than  many  a  man  would 
ascribe  to  one  of  his  color." 

"  I  know  he  is  one  of  the  best  men  I 
ever  seed — saw,  John  replied."  "  I  have 
hearn  folks  try  to  make  out  that  the  nig 
ger  ain't  got  as  big  a  soul  as  the  white 
man,  but  nobody's  got  any  bigger  soul 
than  Alf  has.  There's  his  gun  !"  . 

Again  they  struggled  through  the  cane, 
and  again  they  came  upon  a  small,  open 
space.  There  they  found  Alf,  sitting  on 
a  bear,  smoking  his  pipe  and  fanning  him 
self  with  his  straw  hat. 

"  You  have  him  sure  enough  !"  Potter 
exclaimed. 

"  Sah  ?"  Alf  replied,  with  pretended 
unconcern. 


j6  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  I  say  you  have  killed  the  bear !" 

"  Whut  bar  ?" 

"Why,  the  one  you  are  sitting  on." 

John  was  leaning  against  a  tree,  shak 
ing  with  laughter.  He  understood  the 
old  man. 

"Oh,  dis yere  b'ar." 

"Yes;  that  bear." 

"  Oh,  yas,  sah  ;  I  got  him.  Tell  you 
whut  it  is"  (getting  up,  and  putting  on  his 
hat),  "  it  won't  do  fur  er  b'ar  ter  come  kill- 
in'  one  o'  my  ole  frien's.  Dangerous,  sah, 
dangerous.  Wall,  we'll  go  home  now, 
get  de  hosses,  an'  drag  dis  generman  ter 
de  house." 

"An  enormous  animal,"  said  Potter. 

"  Cose  he  is.  Oh,  I  ain't  trampin' 
roun'  de  neighborhood  er  shootin'  kittens, 
I  tell  you." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  77 


CHAPTER   V. 

When  the  bear  had  been  dragged  home, 
skinned  and  cut  up,  the  work  of  dividing 
with  the  nearest  neighbors  was  begun. 
John  took  a  choice  roast  over  to  Mrs. 
Forest,  whose  overflowing  expressions  of 
thanks  quite  embarrassed  him,  but  Eva 
came  forward  with  such  frankness  of  man 
ner  that  his  confusion  was  put  to  instant 
flight. 

"  Come  into  the  other  room,"  said  the 
girl,  "and  let  me  show  you  some  of  my 
books." 

He  followed  her  into  a  room  situated  at 
the  end  of  a  gallery  that  ran  the  full  length 
of  the  old  log  house.  The  collection 
numbered  but  a  few  volumes,  but  John 
opened  his  eyes  in  great  astonishment. 

"  You  haven't  read  all  these  here,  have 
you  ?"  he  asked. 


78  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  Oh,  yes,  some  of  them  many  times. 
It  doesn't  take  long  to  read  them  all. 
After  awhile  I  will  lend  them  to  you." 

"  I  will  take  good  care  of  them." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that.  Anyone  who 
would  not  take  care  of  a  book  is  not 
worthy  of  the  slightest  trust." 

Mrs.  Forest  came  to  the  door.  "  Eva," 
she  said,  yonder  comes  that  good-for- 
nothing  Bob  Juckels.  I  wish  he  would 
stay  at  home.  Look  ;  he  threw  a  stone  at 
the  calf.  I  could  wring  his  good-for-noth 
ing  neck." 

Eva  and  John  went  out  onto  the  gal 
lery.  Bob  Juckels  climbed  over  the 
fence,  though  the  gate  was  near,  and,  in 
a  skulking  and  "  scuffing  "  manner,  ap 
proached.  He  was  just  old  enough  to  be 
"gawky,"  and  was  not  intelligent  enough 
to  understand  even  the  demands  of  the 
uncouth  politeness  of  the  neighborhood. 
His  face  was  covered  with  red  freckles, 
his  teeth  protruded,  and  his  dingy  hair 
looked  as  though  it  might,  at  some  time, 
have  been  chewed  by  a  calf. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  79 

"  Hi,  folks,"  he  said,  as  he  stepped  upon 
the  gallery.  "'Lowed  I'd  drap  in  an' 
see  you  erwhile.  Pap  wanted  me  ter 
chop  sprouts  outen  the  corners  uv  the 
fence  ter-day,  but  I  don't  feel  like  it. 
Ain't  this  here  John  Lucas?" 

"  Yes,"  John  replied. 

"  That's  whut  I  'lowed.  I  was  over  at 
ole  Lucas'  house  one  time  ;  drapped  in 
ter  git  a  drink  uv  water,  an'  hanged  ef 
that  wife  uv  hizen  didn't  skeer  me  putty 
nigh  ter  death.  I  ain't  been  thar  sense, 
fur  it's  sorter  outen  my  range,  anyhow. 
Eva,  have  you  got  any  fresh  water  handy  ?" 

"  Some  there  in  the  bucket,  I  think," 
the  girl  replied. 

"  Sho  it's  fresh  ?" 

"  If  it  isn't,  you  know  where  the  well 
is,"  said  Mrs.  Forest. 

11  Yas,  ought  ter.  John,  is  that  yo'  hoss 
hitched  out  thar  ?" 

"Yea" 

'"Lowed  so.  Sorter  looks  like  you — 
haw  !  haw  !  Say,  ef  you'll  go  my  way  I'll 
ride  behind  you  ?" 


80  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  I'm    not   goin'   your   way ;    but   you 
shouldn't  ride  behind  me  if  you  was  goin' 


mine." 


"  Reckon  we'd  see  erbout  that." 

"  Well,  I  must  go,"  said  John,  address 
ing  Mrs.  Forest  and  Eva. 

"  Don't  be  snatched,"  Juckles  replied. 

John  gave  the  fellow  a  contemptuous 
look  ;  and  then,  after  shaking  hands  with 
the  ladies,  and  especially  after  listening 
with  gratitude  to  their  sincere  declara 
tions  that  he  would  ever  be  a  welcome 
visitor  at  their  house,  mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  away.  He  had  not  gone  far 
when  his  saddle-girth  broke.  He  dis 
mounted,  and  while  he  was  mending  it 
with  a  string,  Bob  Juckels  climbed  over  a 
fence,  and  approached  him. 

"  'Lowed  I'd  cut  across  the  field  an'  beat 
you,"  said  Bob.  "  That  ain't  much  uv  a 
nag  you've  got,  nohow.  Don't  look  like 
he  could  pull  er  settin'  hen  offen  her 
nest." 

'*  He's  putty  strong,"  John  replied, 
"  but  there  air  some  things  he  can't  pull. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  81 

He  couldn't  pull  the  truth  out  of  you,  for 
instance." 

"  Oh,  you  air  gettin'  mighty  high  up 
sense  you  been  'sociatin'  with  that  ole 
nigger  an'  that  big  red-headed  feller.  I've 
hearn  all  erbout  you." 

"  I  expect  you  have  hearn  more  about 
us  than  anybody  cares  to  hear  about  you." 

"  Keep  on  that  er  way,"  Bob  replied, 
"  an'  you'll  be  sharp  ernuff  ter  drive  in  the 
ground  airter  while." 

"Juckels,  go  on  erway  now  and  leave 
me  alone.  I  don't  like  you,  and  I  don't 
want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  whuther  you  like 
me  ur  not,  when  you  don't  know  much 
erbout  me  ?" 

"  I  know  enough  about  you.  I've  seen 
you  a  number  of  times.  Alf  knows  you, 
too." 

"Alf s  er  ole  fool." 

"  Go  on  away,  now." 

"Say,"  said  Juckels,  "what  made  you 
go  over  thar  ter  the  wider's  ?" 

"  None  of  your  business." 
e 


82  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  Fine-lookin'  gal  they've  got  over  thar, 
ain't  she  ?  Ken  make  er  putty  fair  article 
uv  pie,  too,  I  tell  you.  Say,  I  bet  I  ken 
outrassle  you  fur  that  coat  you've  got 


on." 


"  I  told  you  to  go  away." 

"  Wall,  then,  I  ken  outbox  you  fur  that 
ar  hat." 

John  had  mended  the  girth  and  was 
trimming  a  switch  that  he  had  cut  from  a 
hickory  sapling. 

"Did  you  hear  whut  I  said?"  Juckels 
remarked. 

John,  without  replying,  was  preparing 
to  mount  his  horse,  when  Juckels  took 
hold  of  his  arm.  John  wheeled  about, 
and  with  the  switch  gave  the  intruder  so 
sharp  a  cut  across  the  face  that  he  roared 
with  pain.  "  Never  mind,"  he  yelled  as 
John  rode  away,  "this  ain't  the  last  day 
in  the  world.  You'll  hear  frum  me  one 
uv  these  days  in  a  way  that'll  make  you 
squeal." 

John,  upon  arriving  home,  found  his 
uncle  and  aunt.  Old  Jeff  was  wheezy 


Up  Terrapin  River.  83 

with  a  cold  which  he  had  caught  some 
time  before,  while  tying  fodder  at  night 
in  the  dew.  He  and  his  wife  had  met 
Alf,  who  was  on  his  way  to  take  them  a 
piece  of  bear  meat,  had  faced  him  about 
and  compelled  him  to  go  back  with  them, 
declaring  that  they  could  take  the  meat 
home  themselves. 

"  I  never  was  mo'  s'prized  in  my  life 
than  when  I  found  you  folks  had  suthin' 
ter  eat  over  here,"  said  Mrs.  Lucas.  "  My 
consceounce  alive,  I  wush  I  may  never 
stir  agin,  ef  I  didn't  'spect  ter  find  you 
all  starved  ter  death." 

Potter  looked  up  with  a  broad  smile, 
and  attempted  to  make  some  sort  of  a 
pleasant  reply,  but  had  no  sooner  said 
"madam  "than  the  old  woman,  using  an 
illustration  afterward  employed  by  Alf, 
"  fairly  fluttered."  "  Oh  don't  call  me  er 
madam,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Gracious  knows 
I  didn't  come  all  the  way  over  here  ter  be 
madamed.  When  a  man  calls  a  woman 
madam,  he  thinks  he's  done  the  biggest 
sorter  day's  work.  Now  thar's  Jeff  grin- 
e 


b"4  Up  Terrapin  River. 

nin'  jest  like  er  'possum.  Do  b'le've  in 
my  soul  he  would  grin  ef  the  woods  was 
afire." 

"  I  mout  ef  I  had  ter  go  through  'em  " 
old  Jeff  replied. 

"Yes,  I'll  be  bound  you  would,"  she 
answered,  giving,  as  a  recognition  of  his 
reply,  a  sort  of  savage  nod.  "  Wall,  we 
kaint  be  settin'  'round  here  allus,  Jeff. 
Let's  be  gittin'  on  home,  fur  it'll  be  night 
'fo'  we  git  thar,  nohow." 

Winter  came.  Snowbirds  fluttered  on 
the  smoking  ground  where  the  hogs  were 
fed.  The  dry  and  cupped  leaf  of  the 
hornbeam  tree  floated  down  the  shivering 
rivulet,  carrying  as  a  cargo  the  lifeless 
body  of  a  cricket. 

As  the  weather  grew  colder,  Alf's 
daughter  seemed  to  grow  weaker.  She 
spoke  not  of  the  pain  she  must  have  suf 
fered,  but  all  day,  when  the  wind  howled, 
she  sat  in  a  corner  near  the  fire,  with  her 
wasted  hands  clasped  and  with  musing 
gaze  fixed  upon  the  glowing  coals.  In 
the  night,  when  the  sharp  sleet  rattled 


Up  Terrapin  River.  85 

against  the  window — when  some  homeless 
and  abused  dog  howled  dismally  on  the 
hill-side — old  Alf  would  take  her  in  his 
arms  and  walk  the  floor  with  her,  whisper 
ing  the  while  soft  words  of  love's  encour 
agement.  The  winter  would  soon  be  gone; 
the  dry  and  stiffened  twig  would  soon 
again  be  "velveted"  with  buds.  He  told 
her  to  think  of  the  garden  that  he  was  go 
ing  to  clear  for  her  in  the  edge  of  the  woods. 

"  Doan  talk  erbout  gittin'  weaker  ever' 
day,  little  angel,"  he  would  say.  "W'y 
bless  me,  chile,  you'-s  gittin'  heavier  all 
time.  Huh,  airter  while  it  will  take  er 
man  ez  strong  ez  Mr.  Potter  ter  lif  you 
roun'."  But  when  he  would  put  her  down 
and  turn  away  from  her,  tears  would  start 
from  his  eyes.  One  night,  after  a  physi 
cian  had  gravely  shaken  his  head  and 
gone  away,  Alf  called  Potter  and  John. 

"  Come  in  yere  er  minit,  genermen,"  he 
said. 

They  followed  him.  A  large  stove  had 
been  placed  in  Alf's  room.  Two  holes  in 
the  stove  glared  like  two  red  eyes. 


86  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  Can  we  do  anything  for  her?"  Potter 
asked. 

"  I'se  erfeered  not;  but  I  kaint  think, 
sah,  dat  she's  so  much  wus  ter  day.  Yeres 
de  genermen,  Jule.  You  wanted  me  to 
call  em." 

She  smiled  in  reply.  Alf  knelt  beside 
the  bed.  "  You  doan  feel  so  much  wus, 
does  you,  honey  ?" 

"  No,  sah  ;   I  feels  much  better." 

"  Thank  de  Lawd  fur  dat.  Set  down, 
genermen.  Oh,  I  tole  you  dat  doctor 
didn'  know  whut  he  talkin'  'bout.  Is  you 
sufferin'  much  pain,  little  gal  ?" 

"  No,  sah  ;  none  er  tall.  Whut  time  is 
it?" 

'"Bout  12  o'clock." 

"  I  thought  it  wuz  day.  Ain't  dat  de 
sun  shinin'  dar  ergin  de  wall  ?" 

"No  ;  dat's  de  light  frum  dem  holes  in 
de  stove." 

"  I  thought  de  fire  wuz  out,"  she  re 
plied.  "  It's  so  col'  in  yere." 

"  Oh,  no ;  we  got  er  monst'us  good 
I  put  in  some  hickory  chunks  jes'  now.'' 


Up  Terrapin  River.  87 

"  I  wush  I  could  see  de  sun." 

"  You  ken  termor'  mornin',  honey.  It's 
been  cloudy,  you  know,  fur  two  or  three 
days,  but  it's  cl'ar  now,  fur  when  I  looked 
out  jes'  now,  er  thousan'  stars  wuz  er  win- 
kin'  at  each  uder,  thinkin'  dat  da  got  er 
good  joke  on  de  weather." 

"  De  moon  ain't  shinin',  is  it  ?"  she 
asked. 

"No.  It  sorter  'pears  like  she's  got 
tangled  up  in  de  underbresh  way  over 
yander  on  de  uder  side  de  hill,  but  termor1 
mornin'  de  sun  gwine  git  up  early,  an' 
fling  er  bushel  o'  gold  right  inter  disyere 


room." 


"  Daddy  ?" 

"Yas,  honey." 

"You  won't  feel  too  bad  ef  I  tell  you 
suthin',  will  you  ?" 

"  No,  darlin'." 

"  Daddy  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I'se  dyin'." 

"  Oh,  doan  say  dat."  He  took  her 
hands.  "  My  God,  genermen,"  he  ex- 


88  Up  Terrapin  River. 

claimed,  she  is  cold.  Oh,  fur  God's  sake, 
kain't  you  he'p  me  ?  John,  kain't — Oh, 
Hebenly  Father " 

"Daddy?" 

"Yas,  angel." 

"  Didn1  you  tell  me  erbout  de  good  man 
dat  died  ?"  Daddy,  I — oh,  I'se  so  happy 
—I " 

"  My  God,  she's  gone!"  exclaimed  the 
old  negro  ;  "  gone,  gone.  Oh,  God,  have 
mercy  on  my  po'  ole  heart.  Genermen, 
leave  me  yere  er  little  while." 

Potter  and  John  went  out  into  the 
night.  The  thousand  stars  were  still 
winking  at  each  other.  Without  speak 
ing  the  two  friends  turned  down  toward 
the  river. 

"What   noise  is  that?"  Potter  asked 
suddenly  stopping. 

It  was  the  wild  wailing  of  AlPs  fiddle 
The  old  man  was  pouring  out  his  grief. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  89 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Three  years  passed.  No  change  had 
come  over  the  old  house  where  Potter, 
John,  and  Alf  lived,  but  the  farm  was  no 
longer  a  place  half  covered  with  bushes 
and  briers.  It  was  a  long  time  after 
Jule's  death  before  old  Alf  regained  his 
wonted  cheerfulness ;  and  one  night 
when  she  had,  for  more  than  two  years, 
been  in  her  grave,  old  Alf  got  out  of  bed, 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 
Potter,  who  heard  him,  asked  if  he  was 
ill.  "  Oh,  no,  sah,"  he  replied.  "  I  am 
jes'  walkin'  wid  de  speret  o'  my  chile." 

To  John  there  had  come  a  great  change. 
He  had  studied  with  unwavering  determi 
nation,  and  had  during  two  winters  at 
tended  school  at  Sunset.  From  a  charge, 
he  had  become  a  companion  to  Potter, 
who,  during  more  than  one  conversation 


90  Up  Terrapin  River. 

with  Mrs.  Forest  and  Eva,  had  said: 
"  That  boy  has  a  wonderfully  strong  and 
original  mind.  His  teacher  declares  that 
he  never  saw  his  equal.  The  mark  he  is 
going  to  make  will  be  deeper  than  any 
furrow  he  has  ever  plowed." 

Potter  and  John  had  spent  many 
pleasant  hours  at  the  Forest  house.  John 
had  read  all  of  Eva's  books.  He  had  not 
stopped  at  this  ;  he  had  bought  a  number 
of  books  which  he  found  in  a  store  at 
Sunset — old  books,  which  were  thought 
by  the  storekeeper  to  be  hopelessly  out 
of  date.  He  had  laughed  when  John 
marched  proudly  away  with  a  sack  full  of 
treasures.  "  That  feller  will  never  make 
a  livin',"  said  the  storekeeper.  "  Why,  he 
give  me  $5  for  a  lot  of  old  rubbish  that 
I've  been  tumblin'  about  the  store  for 
years."  John  also  laughed,  but  with  quiet 
joy,  for  in  the  sack  there  were  "  Burns' 
Poems,"  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  "  Paul 
and  Virginia,"  "  Plutarch's  Lives,"  and 
"  Macaulay's  Essays."  One  afternoon, 
John  and  Eva  were  strolling  along  a 


Up  Terrapin  River.  91 

flower-fringed  road  near  Mrs.  Forest's 
house,  when  the  girl  remarked: 

"  It  is  not  strange  to  me  that  you  are 
so  different  intellectually  now  from  your 
former  self.  When  I  first  saw  you  I  knew 
that  this  time  would  come." 

"  It  is  so  strange  to  me,"  John  replied, 
"that  I  can  scarcely  realize  it.  Oh,  of 
course,  I  am  by  no  means  learned,  and 
doubtless  never  shall  be,  but  every  day  I 
see  the  light  of  perseverance  thrown  upon 
mysteries  which  were  once  dark  and  stub 
born.  Eva,  there  is  no  life  so  wretched 
as  that  of  the  yearning  backwoods  boy. 
His  hands  are  tied  ;  the  dust  from  the 
field  of  ignorance  blinds  his  eyes.  But 
there  is  hope  for  every  boy.  I  believe 
that  as  a  case  of  hopelessness  mine  was  at 
one  time  without  a  parallel." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "but  you  have  sat 
between  two  remarkable  teachers.  On 
one  side,  a  man  of  books,  not  a  great 
philosopher,  but  a  man  of  engaging  fancy 
and  bright  illustration.  On  the  other  side, 
a  child  of  nature — a  man  who  can  feel  the 


92  Up  Terrapin  River. 

pulse  of  a  leaf,  who  can  hear  the  beating 
of  the  heart  of  a  tree." 

"Yes,  but  those  teachers  came  to  me," 
John  rejoined,  "just  as  opportunities 
must  at  some  time  come  to  all  boys.  If 
I  could  preach  to  every  farmer  boy,  or  for 
that  matter  to  every  boy,  the  first  word 
uttered  should  be  '  books.'  Yonder 
comes  that  fellow  Juckels.  Let  us  go 
back  toward  the  house." 

They  turned  back,  but  had  not  gone  far 
when  Juckels  overtook  them. 

"  Out  sorter  sunin'  yo'selves,  I  see,"  he 
said.  John  gave  him  a  short  "Yes;" 
Eva  said  nothing. 

"Tell  me,  they  do,  that  you  air  sorter 
gittin'  up  in  the  picters,  John." 

"  I  am  not  studying  pictures.  I  have 
no  intention  of  becoming  an  artist." 

"  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean  ?  Say, 
one  time  er  good  while  ergo,  I  told  you 
that  you  would  hear  from  me  in  a  way 
that  would  make  you  squeal.  Ricolleck  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  Wall,  the  reason  you.  ain't  is  becaze 


Up  Terrapin  River.  93 

I  went  off  down  ter  my  uncle's  in  the 
white  oak  neighborhood,  an'  ever*  time  I 
came  back  you  was  off  at  school  or  some- 
whar  else.  Now,  don't  you  think  it  is 
erbout  time  we  was  havin'  er  settlement  ?" 

"  I  don't  owe  you  anything,"  John 
replied. 

"  No  ;  but  I  owe  you  suthin'." 

"All  right,  then,  pay  it." 

John  felt  the  girl's  trembling  touch 
upon  his  arm.  He  looked  at  her,  and 
saw  that  her  face  had  grown  paler.  She 
gave  him  a  look  of  earnest  meaning,  and 
then  slowly  shook  her  head.  Not  another 
word  was  spoken  until  they  were  within  a 
few  steps  of  Eva's  home.  Then  John,  bid 
ding  her  good  evening,  said  that  he  must 
hurry  on  and  assist  Potter  and  Alf  in 
feeding  the  cattle. 

"  I  wish  to  see  you  a  moment,"  said 
the  girl,  drawing  him  aside.  "  Don'c  have 
anything  to  do  with  that  man."  She 
added,  in  an  undertone,  "  he  is  utterly 
without  principle." 

41  I   will   keep   an  eye   on   him,"   John 


94  Up  Terrapin  River. 

replied.  "  The  coward  ever  seems  to 
fear  the  light  of  an  open  eye  quite  as 
much  as  he  does  the  gleaming  of  a 
weapon.  Good-evening." 

John  walked  rapidly,  but  Juckels,  mov 
ing  with  a  sort  of  dog  trot,  soon  overtook 
him. 

"  Looks  like  we  mout  have  rain,  John ; 
the  sun's  goin'  ter  bed  sorter  bloody,  ez 
the  feller  says." 

"  Yes,"  John  replied. 

"  Hickory  switches  grow  putty  plentiful 
long  here,  don't  they?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Never  wuz  cut  in  the  face  with  one,  I 
reckon  ?" 

"  No." 

"  They  say  it  hurts  putty  bad." 

"  You  ought  to  know." 

"  Sho  nuff;  mebbe,  then,  I  do." 

"  I  should  think  so,  if  you  have  a  good 
memory." 

"  You  bet  I've  got  er  good  one.  Now 
here,  I  want  you  ter  'polyjise  ter  me." 

"  What  for  ?" 


Up  Terrapin  River.  95 

"  You  know,  an1  you've  got  ter  do  it  ur 
suthin'  is  goin'  ter  happen." 

"  Something  is  always  happening.  If 
something  didn't  happen,  time  would  be 
very  dull  to  some  people." 

"Yas;  an'  when  suthin'  do  happen, 
time  mout  stop  ter  some  people.  You've 
hearn  uv  fellers  what  b'l'eves  that  er 
pistol  sometimes  snaps,  but  er  knife  don't, 
hain't  you?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Wall,  I'm  one  uv  them  fellers." 

11  There  are  fellows,  too,  that  I  suppose 
you  have  heard  of." 

"  Whut  sort  ?" 

"  The  kind  that  would  not  hesitate  a 
moment  to  knock  you  down  and  kick  you 
across  the  road.  I  see  your  knife,  you 
coward."  They  had  stopped  in  the  road, 
and  were  facing  each  other 

"  Yas,  an'  you'll  feel " 

John  knocked  him  down  with  a  blow, 
lightning-like  in  its  quickness,  and,  with 
out  waiting  for  him  to  get  up,  resumed 
his  brisk  walk.  Juckels  did  not  follow, 


g6  Up  Terrapin  River. 

but  in  a  sort  of  hoarse  roar  exclaimed: 
"You'll  hear  from  me  in  a  way  that'll 
make  you  squeal!  see  if  you  don't." 

When  John  reached  home,  he  found  that 
the  cattle  had  been  fed,  and  that  supper 
was  waiting  for  him. 

"  Suthin'  gwine  ter  snatch  you  up  one 
deze  nights  an'  run  erway  wid  you,"  said 
Alf,  slyly  winking  at  Potter.  "  Keep  on 
prowlin'  'round  de  woods  at  night,  an' 
you'll  see  bimeby.  Set  up  dar  now  an' 
eat  some  o'  dem  fish  me  an'  Mr.  Potter 
dun  cotch.  B'l'ebes  da  bites  in  dis  airly 
fall  weder  better  den  da  do  in  de  spring. 
Yo'  Aunt  Liz  wuz  ober  yere  terday,  an' 
wuz  powerful  'stonished  ter  see  dat  we 
ain't  dun  starved  ter  death  yit.  When  she 
seed  deze  new  cheers  an'  table  it  made  de 
ole  lady  open  her  eyes,  I  tell  you.  Seed 
dat  pizen  feller  Juckels  pokin'  roun'  down 
by  de  river  'bout  dinner  time.  Dat  feller 
ain't  gwine  ter  come  ter  no  good.  I  lay 
er  rattlesnake  gwine  ter  bite  him  some 
day.  Huh,  an'  I  lay  it'll  kill  de  snake, 
too." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  97 

John  then  related  his  adventure  with 
Juckels.  "  Why,  you  ought  to  have 
stamped  the  life  out  of  the  scoundrel," 
Potter  exclaimed.  "  Don't  you  know  that 
he  might  hide  behind  a  tree  and  shoot 
you.  I  will  go  over  to-morrow,  see  his 
father,  and  tell  him  that  unless  something 
is  done  his  son  is  likely  to  be  badly  hurt. 
Why,  it  is  an  outrage." 

"  Doan  reckon  it  is  much  use  ter  see  his 
daddy,"  Alf  replied.  "W'y,  dat  feller  is 
older  den  John,  an'  I  doan  reckon  his 
daddy  ken  do  much  wid  him." 

"  That  may  be,  but  something  must  be 
done.  By  the  way,  this  morning  while 
strolling  up  the  river  I  met  two  well- 
dressed  men,  horseback,  who  asked  me  if 
I  knew  who  was  cutting  that  cedar  timber 
away  up  beyond  Rocky  Bend." 

Alf  opened  his  eyes  and  straightened 
up.  "You  didn'  know  o'  co'se,"  he  said, 
with  the  thickness  of  a  half-strangled 
whisper. 

"Why,  yes;  I  told  them  that  four  or 
five  brothers  named  Dun  were  doing  it." 

7 


98  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  Den  de  Lawd  hab  mussy  on  us  ! "  the 
old  negro  exclaimed. 

"  What  difference  did  it  make  ?  I  don't 
understand  you." 

"  Oh,  I  'tended  ter  tell  you  'bout  dat,  but 
it's  too  late  now,  for  we'se  gone.  Lawd,  da's 
got  you  po'  ole  servant  on  de  hip  ergin  !" 

"  Alf,  are  you  crazy  ?" 

"  No,  sah  ;  an'  I'se  erfeerd  I  won't  be 
nuthin'  putty  soon.  Mr.  Potter,  dat 
cedar  timber  up  dar  is  on  guberment  Ian', 
an'  dem  men  dat  axed  you  erbout  it  wuz 
guberment  men.  W'y,  nobody  in  dis 
yere  neighborhood  would  er  tole  on  dem 
Duns,  fur  da's  de  wust  men  you  eber  seed. 
Da'll  dodge  dem  guberment  men  an' 
come  right  yere  airter  us.  Doan  ax  me 
how  da'll  fine  out  who  tole  on  'em,  fur  I 
lay  da  knows  dis  minit.  Did  anybody 
yere  you  tole  'em  ?" 

"  There  was  a  man  fishing  close  by." 

"  Dat  settles  it.  Lawd,  da  dun  built  er 
nudder  fire  un'er  yo'  po'  ole  servant." 

"  I  didn't  think  to  caution  Mr,  Potter," 
said  John. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  99 

"  Too  late  ter  talk  erbout  it  now,"  Alf 
went  on.  "  Dem  Duns  comin'  right  yere 
dis  night,  set  dis  house  erfire  an'  shoot  us 
ez  we  runs  out." 

"  The  situation  is  serious,"  Potter 
admitted. 

"  Serious  !"  Alf  exclaimed.  "  Does  you 
call  it  serious  fur  er  man  ter  run  outen 
de  house  ter  keep  frum  bein'  burnt  up  an* 
den  git  shot  down  like  er  deer  ?  Oh, 
Lawd,  you  better  take  yo'  po'  servant 
home,  caze  he  kain't  git  erlong  down 
yere.'1 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  harm  the  Dun 
brothers  or  in  the  least  meddle  with  their 
affairs,"  said  Potter,  "  but  if  they  hold  my 
action  to  be  of  such  mortal  sin  and  come 
to  this  house  to  seek  a  bloody  revenge  I 
shall  deem  it  my  duty  to  shoot  them." 

"  That  is  the  way  to  talk,"  John  replied. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alf,  "  it's  de  way  ter  talk, 
an'  it's  de  way  ter  ack,  too,  but  de  danger 
is  in  'em  settin'  de  house  erfire.  Wall, 
I'se  got  er  powerful  good  ole  gun  yere,  an' 
ef  I  draw  down  on  one  o'  dem  men  he'U 


ioo  Up  Terrapin  River. 

wish  he  had  er  staid  at  home,  I  tell  you. 
We'd  better  put  deze  lights  out,  caze  dem 
raskils  ken  slip  up  yere  an'  shoot  us 
through  de  cracks." 

Action  upon  the  old  negro's  advice  was 
immediately  taken.  The  wind  began  to 
howl  furiously.  A  rumbling,  low  and 
distant,  proclaimed  with  sullen  threaten 
ing  the  coming  of  a  storm.  Nearer, 
nearer  the  rumbling  came,  and  glittering 
spears  of  blinding  light  were  thrust  with 
angry  flashing  through  the  chink  holes  of 
the  wall.  The  wind  became  more  violent, 
the  rumbling  burst  into  a  deafening  clap, 
and  ragged  sheets  of  water  lashed  the 
house.  The  lingering  lightning,  quiver 
ing  in  fearful  dalliance,  as  though  loth  to 
sink  back  into  the  dark  and  surging  cloud, 
wrought  upon  the  river,  which  could  be 
seen  through  the  window,  a  thousand 
terror-breeding  shapes — great  monsters 
that  lashed  the  water  into  fiery  foam. 

"  We  better  put  down  deze  yere  guns  an' 
pray  erwhile,"  said  Alf.  "  Oh,  Lawd,  is 
you  gwine  ter  let  de  elements  kill  yo'  po' 


Up  Terrapin  River.  101 

ole  servant  ?  My  greshus,  yere  dem  limbs 
strikin'  de  house  !  Dar  ain't  been  no  sich 
er  storm  ez  dis — mussyful  hebens,  is  de 
house  down !  Oh,  I  thought  we  gone 
dat  time,  sho.  Deze  ole  logs  wuz  put 
yere  ter  stay — dat  is,  I  hopes  so." 

"  This  storm  will  protect  us  from  the 
Duns  until  morning,  at  least,"  Potter  re 
joined.  "  This  lightning  will  purify  our 
air  against  their  poisonous  vapors." 

"  Then,"  said  John,  "let  us  hope  that 
this  wind  is  not  ill.  Mr.  Potter,  you 
remember  the  first  day  I  ever  saw  you, 
when  we  were  sitting  in  the  yard  dis 
cussing  a  plan  upon  which,  to  me  at  least, 
there  has  fallen  such  a  promise  of  ripeness, 
you  said  that  I  might  think  it  strange  that 
you  should  seek  to  bury  yourself  here  in 
the  woods." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"And  you  said  that  some  time  in  the 
future  you  hoped  to  tell  me  the  cause." 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  is  not  this  a  most  befitting  time  ? 
If  a  storm  drove  you  to  this  place  let  a 


IO2  Up  Terrapin  River. 

storm  drive  out  to  me  your  confidence.  I 
have  often  seen  you  put  your  book  aside 
and  give  yourself  to  moments  of  so  deep 
a  brooding  that,  though  I  would  not  seek 
to  be  obtrusive,  I  have  tried  to  study  out 
your  mystery.  This  storm,  I  think,  is 
growing  worse.  To-morrow — well,  to 
morrow  we  may  not  be  here.  Tell  me 


now." 


A  lingering,  quivering  light  fell  on  Pot 
ter's  face,  and  under  the  glare  John  could 
see  the  darkened  lines  of  trouble. 

"No,  my  dear  boy,  I  can  not  tell  you 
now.  That  I  have  confidence  in  you,  you 
well  know  ;  that  I  have  an  affection  for 
you,  you  must  feel.  I  have  watched  the 
soft  color  of  sadness  which  I  once  saw 
under  the  sunburn  on  your  face  grow 
brighter  with  an  eager  glow.  I  have  seen 
your  mind  unfold,  and  each  day  have 
found  something  new  in  you  to  admire, 
but  I  can  not  tell  you  what  you  crave  to 
know.  There,  the  lightning  is  growing 
dimmer.  From  a  roar  the  wind  is  shrink 
ing  to  a  wail." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  103 

"  Yas,"  said  Alf,  "an'  I  thank  de  Lawd 
fur  it,  too  ;  I  tell  you  dat.  It  won't  do 
ter  fool  wid  one  deze  yere  storms  dat  puts 
on  er  black  nightcap  an'  w'ars  red  ribbons 
at  its  throat.  I  think  we  mout  ez  well  lay 
down  yere  now  an'  sleep  erwhile.  Dem 
men  ain't  gwine  ter  come  yere  ter-night ; 
but  I  do  b'l'ebe  da'll  be  yere  in  de  maw- 
nin';  an'  ef  da  block  us  up  in  yere  de 
neighbors  will  jes'  let  us  stay  yere  an' 
starve,  caze,  I  tell  yo,  da  so  monst'us 
feerd  o'  dem  fellers." 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  when  morn 
ing  came  until  they  saw  that  Alf's  predic 
tion  had  not  been  an  idle  one  ;  for  when 
Potter  opened  the  door  to  look  out,  there 
came  a  short  report  from  an  opposite  hill 
side,  and  a  bullet  sent  splinters  flying  from 
the  door  facing. 

"  Shet  de  do',"  Alf  cried.  "  Grab  yo' 
guns  an'  lay  down  on  de  flo'.  When  de 
sun  comes  up  da  gwine  shoot  through 
deze  yere  cracks.  Oh,  Lawd,  da's  still 
atter  yo'  po'  ole  servant.  Lissun  how  da 
shoot.  Biz !  Yere  dem  balls !" 


IO4  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  If  I  can  get  a  sight  at  one  of  them," 
said  Potter,  peering  through  a  hole  in  the 
wall,  I  think  that  I  can  relieve  him  from 
duty.  Boys,  shoot,  anyway." 

A  brisk  firing  was  now  begun  on  each 
side.  A  small  mirror  flew  into  fragments 
and  fell  on  the  floor.  A  dish  pan  with  a 
ringing  "tang"  fell  from  the  wall. 

"  Oh,  de  scounule,"  said  Alf.  "  It's  er 
powerful  good  thing  for  us  dat  dar  ain't 
no  cracks  closer  ter  de  flo'.  Helloa ! 
What's  de  matter  ?  Thank  de  Lawd,  w'y 
look  yander  ;  de  guberment  men  is  airter 


em." 


Indeed,  a  deputy  United  States  marshal 
and  his  men  had  arrived,  and  the  Duns, 
five  in  number,  were  captured,  not  how 
ever  until  two  of  them  had  been  severely 
wounded.  The  prisoners  were  brought 
to  the  house,  where  one  man,  a  sort  of 
physician,  attended  to  the  wounded. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  we  got  you  into 
trouble,"  said  the  deputy  marshal,  address 
ing  Potter,  "but  you  have  greatly  aided 
us  in  breaking  up  this  gang." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  105 

"  What  will  you  do  with  them  ?"  Potter 
asked. 

"  They  will  be  sent  to  the  United  States 
prison  at  Detroit.  They  have  stolen  a 
great  deal  of  valuable  timber,  for  which 
the  government  has  use,  and  their  terms 
are  not  likely  to  be  short.  I  don't  think 
you  need  to  fear  any  more  trouble,  as  the 
entire  gang  is  now  broken  up.  Well, 
boys,  go  and  get  the  wagon  and  we  will 
haul  our  violent  woodchoppers  to  Little 
Rock." 

That  night  old  Alf,  taking  down  his 
fiddle,  remarked:  "Got  ter  hab  some 
music,  now.  Oh,  I  tell  yer  dat  when  er 
man  praises  de  Lawd  wid  er  little  music 
now  an'  den,  it  takes  er  mighty  powerful 
evil  speret  ter  lay  his  claw  on  him." 


io6  Up  Terrapin  River. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

One  evening  old  Alf,  having  put  away 
the  supper  dishes,  took  down  his  fiddle 
and  began  to  twang  its  strings,  but  failing 
to  feel  his  wonted  interest  in  the  instru 
ment,  put  it  down  and  then  sought  diver 
sion  in  the  humming  of  an  old  "corn- 
shucking  "  song  ;  but  again  meeting  with 
failure,  he  got  up,  sadly  shook  his  head, 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 
Potter  and  John,  who  were  reading,  paid 
no  attention.  Suddenly  he  exclaimed: 

"  Uh,  huh,  now  I  got  it,  got  it  sho." 

"  What  have  you  got?"  Potter  asked. 

"W'y,  sah,  got  de  reason  dat  I'se 
troubled  in  my  mine  dis  ebeninV 

"Are  you  troubled?" 

"Is  I  troubled?  Now,  dat's  er  fine 
question  ter  ax  er  man  dat  has  been 
carryin'  on  like  I  has.  Ain't  my  fiddle 


Up  Terrapin  River.  107 

'fused  ter  talk  ter  me,  an'  ain't  er  old  song 
dun  failed  ter  fetch  de  co'n-bread  crumbs 
o'  comfort  ?  Tibby  sho.  Now,  whut's 
de  matter  ?  Suthin'  dat  I  needs.  Whut 
is  dat  suthin  ?  W'y,  I  needs  ter  go  er 
possum  huntin',  sah,  dat's  whut  I  needs. 
I  dreamed  last  night  dat  I  seed  er  piece 
o'  fat  meat  an'  er  sweet  pertater  er  raslin*. 
I  knowed  it  meant  suthin',  but  I  didn' 
know  whut  till  jes'  now.  It  means  dat 
we  got  ter  go  er  possum  huntin'  dis  yere 
very  night,  sah.  How  do  it  hit  you  ?" 
"  I'm  willing.  What  do  you  say,  John  ?" 
"  Suits  me  exactly,"  Jt>hn.  replied. 
"  Then,  let  us  get  ready  and  go  at 
once,"  said  Potter.  "  There  is  no  retro 
spective  hand  that  reaches  so  kindly  out 
of  the  past  and  touches  me  with  a  thrill 
of  so  endearing  a  memory  as  the  hand 
that  comes  out  from  under  the  hazy 
curtain  of  an  Indian-summer  night  and 
gently  draws  me  back  into  a  hallowed 
past,  when,  with  eager  footsteps,  I  fol 
lowed  the  negroes  on  my  father's  farm  to 
the  place  where  the  dogs  had  treed." 


io8  Up  Terrapin  River. 

11  *"as,  I  reckon  so,"  Alf  replied ;  "  I  do 
reckon  dat  ;  yas,  sah,  I  do.  I  doan  know 
nuthin'  'bout  no  arm  comin'  out,  but  I 
knows  dat  de  ricollection  o'  some  frosty 
nights  in  ole  North  Kliny  makes  me  wush 
dat  I  wuz  dar,  er  boy  ergin.  But  let  us 
go  on  ef  we  gwine,  caze  it's  been  some 
time  sense  de  oven  has  shined  wid  de 
sweet  grease  o'  de  possum.  Deze  new 
dogs  we  got,  I  doan  know  so  much  erbout 
'em.  Wush  Ole  Pete — neber  mine,  dat's 
all  right.  Lawd,  yo'  ole  servant  'bout  ter 
grumble  ergin." 

They  went  out  into  the  beautiful  night. 
Nature  was  so  hushed  that  the  rythmic 
flow  of  the  river  could  be  heard.  The 
stars  seemed  to  shine  through  a  gauzy 
sheen.  In  the  air  there  was  a  faltering 
promise  of  the  coming  of  winter.  On  a 
log,  where  the  moonbeams  fell,  there  lay 
a  substance  of  greenish  white.  It  was  a 
dead  tree-toad. 

"  Let's  cross  dis  fiel',"  said  Alf,  "  an'  skirt 
'long  de  edge  o'  de  woods  whar  de  'sim- 
mon  trees  grows.  Whoop — ee!  [calling  to 


Up  Terrapin  River. 

the    dogs].     Git    'em    down,    ole    boys. 
Whoop — ee,  git  'em  down!" 

The  old  negro  was  joyous.  He  hummed 
old  tunes.  "  I  doan  know  whut  make 
dem  varmints  so  skace  ter-night,"  said  he. 

"  Knowing  that  you  were  coming  after 
them,  they  have  doubtless  all  left  the 
country,"  John  replied. 

"  I  reckon  you's  hit  it,  sah ;  I  reckon 
you  has,  caze  when  I  starts  out,  suthin' 
mighty  nigh  sho  ter  happen.  Whoop- 
shove  'em  ole  boys!  Whoop,  push  'em!" 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Potter,  stop 
ping.  "  What  is  the  cause  of  that  bright 
light  over  yonder?" 

"  Bresh  heep  er  burnin'  whar  somebody 
cl'arin'  up  new  groun',  I  reckon,"  Alf 
replied. 

"  Not  that,"  John  remarked.  "A  brush 
heap  would  hardly  send  its  light  so  high/' 

"  Dat's  er  fack,"  the  old  man  admitted. 

"  That  is  someone's  house  on  fire,"  said 
Potter.  "  Who  lives  over  that  way  ?" 

"  Miz  Forest's  house  is  ober  dat  way  ef 
I  ain't  turned  'rounV 


no  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  It  is  her  house!"  John  exclaimed, 
bounding  forward.  "  Come  on!" 

They  ran  with  the  speed  of  utmost 
exertion.  John  gained  on  his  companions. 
He  jumped  over  a  rail  fence  without 
touching  it.  "  Come  on,"  he  cried.  They 
could  now  plainly  see  the  house.  The 
roof  was  in  flames.  No  one  could  be  seen 
near  the  burning  building.  "  Is  it  possible 
that  they  are  burning  up  ?"  John  thought. 

He  reached  the  yard  fence,  cleared  it  at 
a  bound,  ran  across  the  yard,  sprang 
upon  the  gallery,  and  threw  himself  with 
all  his  weight  against  the  door.  It  did 
not  yield.  "  Eva,"  he  cried,  beating  on 
the  door.  "  Eva!"  No  answer  came. 
He  leaped  from  the  gallery,  seized  the 
door-step,  a  ponderous  log,  staggered 
upon  the  gallery  and  threw  the  log  against 
the  door.  An  oak  latch  snapped  and 
the  door  flew  open.  He  did  not  rush  into 
the  room.  His  sense  of  modesty,  even  at 
such  a  time,  forbade  it,  but  with  a  loud 
voice  he  exclaimed:  "  For  God's  sake 
come  out ;  your  house  is  on  fire."  The 


Terrapin  River.  1 1 1 

next  moment  Mrs.  Forest  and  Eva, 
almost  frantic  with  excitement,  but 
wrapped  in  the  clothes  which  they  had 
gathered  from  the  bed,  rushed  from  the 
room.  By  this  time  Potter  and  Alf  had 
arrived.  They  dashed  into  the  house  to 
save  what  furniture  they  could.  "  Don't 
be  excited,"  said  Potter.  "  Fire  is  drop 
ping  down,  but  it  will  take  quite  a  while 
for  those  oak  rafters  to  burn  in  two. 
Carry  out  the  trunks  ;  we  can  save  all  the 
clothes.  Here,  Alf,  you  are  too  much 
excited.  Where  is  John?" 

John  had  thought  of  Eva's  books,  and 
although  that  end  of  the  house  was 
almost  entirely  wrapped  in  flames,  was 
exerting  himself  in  the  dangerous  work  of 
saving  the  cherished  volumes,  and  before 
the  roof  fell  in,  he  had  carried  out  the 
last  book.  A  number  of  the  neighbors 
soon  arrived,  for  the  cry  of  "  Fire!"  "Fire!" 
had  echoed  through  the  woods.  Mrs. 
Forest  and  Eva,  having  dressed  them 
selves  in  the  barn,  stood  looking  at  the 
destruction  of  their  home. 


112  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  could  have 
happened,"  said  Mrs.  Forest.  "  It  must 
have  caught  from  the  upper  part  of  the 
chimney.  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you 
all.  The  fact  that  this  is  the  first  time  I 
have  ever  been  placed  under  such  serious 
obligations,  makes  me  awkward  in  acknowl 
edging  them.  Eva,  can't  you  say  some 
thing  ?" 

The  girl  stood  trembling.  John  stood 
near  her.  "  No,"  she  replied,  "  I — I — 
don't  know "  She  burst  into  tears. 

"  Come,  daughter,  we  are  going  home 
with  Mrs.  Patterson  and  stay  until  we  can 
have  another  house  built." 

The  next  day  John  went  over  to 
Patterson's.  Mrs.  Forest  and  Eva,  with 
that  strong  recuperative  force  found 
among  people  who  live  in  the  woods,  had 
recovered  from  the  effect  of  the  excite 
ment  of  the  previous  night. 

"  Let  us  walk  over  and  look  at  the 
ruins,"  said  John,  addressing  Eva. 

"  There  is  but  little  to  look  at,"  she 
replied,  "  but  we  will  go." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  1 1 3 

They  spoke  but  few  words  as  they 
crossed  the  fields,  but  each  one  felt  that 
the  other  was  not  unhappy.  The  leaves 
on  the  running  brier  were  red,  and  the 
velvety  top  of  the  sassafras  sprout  was 
cool  to  the  touch. 

There  was  nothing  left  of  the  old  house 
but  a  few  smoldering  chunks.  John  and 
Eva  sat  down  on  a  log  that  had  served  as 
a  horse-block. 

"  It  would  have  been  a  great  disappoint 
ment  to  me,  Eva,  if  your  books  had  not 
been  saved." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  but  they  were  not 
worth  so  great  a  risk." 

"  Oh,  the  risk  was  nothing.  All  that 
was  required  was  a  little  activity." 

They  were  silent  for  some  time,  and 
then  John  remarked: 

"  How  strange  everything  has  been.  I 
used  to  fear  that  there  never  would  be  a 
time  when  I  could  talk  to  you  without 
embarrassment.  This  fear  did  not  come 
from  any  word  or  action  of  yours,  but 
from  a  true  estimate  of  myself." 

8 


114  Up  Terrapin  River. 

"  How  a  true  estimate  ?" 

"Why,  an  almost  overpowering  knowl 
edge  of  my  own  ignorance." 

She  gave  him  an  imploring  look.  He 
continued: 

"  You  have  ever  been  kind  to  me.  You 
have  helped  me,  inspired  me.  I  know 
nothing  of  the  world,  but  I  know  grati 
tude.  When  I  am  reading  a  book,  and 
hold  so  much  within  rny  grasp,  the  world 
seems  very  small ;  but  when  I  look  away 
at  the  clouds  floating  far  beyond  the 
hills,  I  then  feel  that  the  world  is  very 
large.  But,  Eva,  may  it  be  large  or  small, 
there  is  to  me  but  one  source  of  true 
happiness.  You  are  that  source,  my 
angel.  I  love  you — love  you.  When  I 
am  near  you  nature  is  more  beautiful. 
There  is  religion  in  the  soft  light  of  your 
eyes.  There  is  the  thrill  of  deep  poetry  in 
every  sound  of  your  voice.  I  do  not  come 
to  you  with  pleading,  for  I  feel  that  you 
love  me— not  because  I  have  done  you  a 
service,  but  because  our  souls,  waving  in  a 
perfumed  atmosphere,  touch  each  other." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  1 1 5 

-John." 

"  Yes,  angel." 

"  You  are  the  only  human  being  who 
has  ever  understood  me  ;  you  are  the  only 
human  being  whom  I  have  ever  under 
stood.  Yes,  I  do  love  you — loved  you 
when  I  saw  you  with  a  child's  primer  in 
your  hand — loved  you  when  I  saw  you  a 
grasping  student  of  rhetoric.  That  we 
should  love  each  other,  seems  to  me  as 
natural  as  that  the  sun  should  shine.  It 
could  be  the  only  result  of  our  association." 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  and  drew  her 
closer  to  him.  "  Eva,  as  you  say,  love 
could  be  the  only  result  of  our  association; 
and  now  do  you  not  know  that  there  can 
be  but  one  true  result  of  our  love  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  only  one." 

The  neighbors  soon  decided  to  build 
Mrs.  Forest  another  house.  The  building 
of  a  log  house  in  the  country  is  looked 
upon  as  a  sort  of  holiday  frolic,  and  there 
is  no  man  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
too  busy  with  his  own  affairs  to  lend  a 
helping  hand.  The  new  house  was  built 

8 


1 1 6  Up  Terrapin  River. 

upon  the  same  site,  and  after   the  same 
pattern  as  the  old  one. 

Eva  had,  one  day,  just  finished  arrang 
ing  her  books,  when  Bob  Juckels  stepped 
upon  the  gallery. 

"  Hi,"  said  he,  as  he  reached  into  an 
adjoining  room,  drew  out  a  chair  and  sat 
down. 

"  Mr.  Juckels,  I  want  you  to  go  away 
from  here,"  the  girl  replied. 

She  stood  in  the  library  door.  He 
looked  up  at  her,  with  an  attempt  at  a 
smile,  but  with  the  result  of  an  ugly  grin. 

"  Pretty  good  house  you  got  here. 
Woulder  come  over  ter  the  raisin',  but  I 
didn't  wanter  meet  Lucas,  fur  when  I 
meet  him,  we're  goin'  ter  mix.  I'm  me, 
let  me  tell  you  that."  He  took  out  a 
bottle  of  whisky,  shook  it,  held  it  up, 
squinted  at  it  and  then  took  a  drink.  The 
girl  was  afraid  of  him.  Her  mother  had 
gone  over  to  a  neighbor's  house. 

"  Putty  good  house  you've  got  here. 
Made  outen  green  logs  an*  it  won't  burn 
ez  easy  ez  the  old  one  did.  Say,  did  you 


Up  Terrapin  River.  117 

tell  Lucas  that  I  had  axed  you  ter  marry 

V 

me  ? 

"  No  ;  I  dislike  you  so  much  that  I  do 
not  mention  your  name  to  anyone." 

"Good  idee.  Wall,  I've  come  ter  ax 
you  agin." 

"And  I  tell  you  that  I  wouldn't  marry 
you  to  save  my  life.  I  despise  you." 

"  That  don't  make  no  diffunce  ter  me, 
fur  airter  we  was  married  erwhile  you 
would  git  over  that.  When  I  axed  you 
befo'  an'  you  'lowed  you  wouldn't,  I  said 
you  would  hear  from  me." 

"  Yes." 

He  shook  the  bottle  again,  and  took 
another  drink.  "An'  you  did  hear  frum 
me,"  he  said,  after  a  few  moments'  silence. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have." 

He  laughed  with  a  low  and  malicious 
chuckle,  looked  about  him,  looked  up  at 
the  rafters,  looked  down  at  the  floor, 
chuckled  again,  and  said  : 

"Ever'thing  new." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  Eva  replied. 

"  Reckon  not.      Wimin  kain't  grab  er 


n8  Up  Terrapin  River. 

p'int  ez  quick  ez  men  ken.  I  mean  that  I 
sot  yo'  house  afire.  Hoi'  on,  now ;  hoi'  on. 
Go  ter  cuttin'  up  an'  it  won't  be  good  fur 
you,  an'  mo'n  that,  ef  you  ever  breathe  er 
word  uv  whut  I've  said  it'll  be  good-by  ter 
you  an'  that  feller  Lucas,  too.  Green  logs 
mout  not  burn,  but  thar's  suthin'  else  that 
will.  Powder'll  burn,  er — haw,  haw!  Yes, 
it'll  burn  like  er  flash." 

"Oh,  you  wretch!" 

"  Yas ;  that's  whut  the  grasshopper 
'lowed,  but  the  wild  turkey  picked  him 
up  all  the  same.  Wall,  I  must  be  shovin' 
erlong;  sorter  knockin'  'round  fur  my 
health.  I'll  come  over  agin  ter-morrer  an' 
see  whut  you've  got  ter  say.  But,  my 
lady,  ef  you  say  er  word  ter  yo'  mother, 
ur  anybody  else,  it'll  be  good-by  ter  the 
whole  kit  an'  bilin'  uv  you." 

A  few  hours  later,  while  Potter,  John, 
and  Alf  were  strolling  along  the  river 
bank,  they  came  upon  Juckels.  He  stood 
with  one  hand  resting  upon  a  rock  that 
protruded  from  a  rugged  cliff.  An  empty 
whisky  bottle  lay  on  the  ground.  As  the 


Up  Terrapin  River.  119 

men  approached,  Juckels  looked  up  with 
a  frown,  and,  with  thick  utterance,  said: 

"  I  want  you  fellers  ter  go  on  erway 
frum  here  now.  Never  mind,  Lucas,  I 
am  goin'  ter  settle  with  you." 

"Any  time  will  suit  me,"  John  replied. 

"My  time  will  suit  me"  Juckels  re 
joined.  "  It  don't  make  no  diffunce 
whuther  it  suits  you  or  not.  But  I  want 
you  fellers  ter  go  on  erway  frum  here  now, 
fur  I  got  here  fust  an'  this  is  mine." 

"  Whut  is  yo'n  ?"  Alf  asked. 

"  This  possum." 

"  Whar's  any  possum  ?" 

"  Under  this  here  rock  ;  that's  whar." 

"  What's  er  possum  doin'  under  dat 
rock  when  dar's  plenty  trees  fur  him  ter 
climb!"  Alf  asked. 

"That's  none  uv  yo'  lookout,"  said 
Juckels.  "  He's  under  this  rock,  an'  I'm 
goin'  ter  crawl  up  under  thar  arter  him/1 

Alf  looked  at  the  ground,  examined  a 
number  of  tracks,  and  then  remarked : 
"  Co'se  you  ken  do  what  you  please  'bout 
dis  yere  matter,  but  ef  you  wuz  er  frien' 


I2O  Up  Terrapin  River. 

o'  mine  I'd  t'ar  yo'  coat  mightily  er  holdin1 
ter  you  fo'  Pd  let  you  go  up  under  dar.v 

"  Yas,  I  reckon  you  would  t'ar  er  feller's 
coat,  an'  take  it  erway  frum  him  too,  ef 
you  could." 

"  Oh,  go  on  up  under  de  rock  ef  you 
wants  to,"  Alf  exclaimed;  "but  I  tell  you 
now  dat  ef  you  wuz  er  frien'  o1  mine  I'd 
beg  you  might'ly  not  ter  go  under  dar." 

"You  air  er  old  thief,  an7  want  me  ter 
leave  this  possum  so  you  ken  git  him." 

"Come,"  said  Potter,  "there  is  no  oc 
casion  for  such  language." 

"  This  ain't  none  uv  yo'  er'fair,  nuther," 
Juckels  responded.  "  Pm  goin'  under  thar, 
an'  that's  all  thar  is  erbout  it." 

He  threw  his  hat  aside,  kicked  the 
whisky  bottle  into  the  river,  got  down  on 
his  hands  and  knees,  and  crawled  under 
the  rock.  The  men  had  turned  to  go 
away,  when  there  issued  from  under  the 
rock  the  most  frightful  noises — the  yells 
of  Juckels  and  the  fierce  shrieking  of 
furious  animals.  Juckels  rolled  out  from 
under  the  cliff.  He  was  literally  covered 


Up  Terrapin  River.  121 

with  wildcats.  The  men  ran  to  his  assist 
ance.  The  animals  ran  back  into  their 
den.  Juckels  was  unable  to  speak.  He 
was  bleeding  from  many  wounds,  and 
when  he  breathed,  blood  bubbled  from  a 
hole  in  his  throat.  Some  time  elapsed 
before  a  word  was  spoken. 

"  We  must  take  him  home,"  Potter  said. 
"  Cut  down  some  saplings  and  we  will 
make  a  stretcher." 

They  started  on  their  burdensome  and 
solemn  march,  and  must  have  gone  two 
miles,  when  Alf  said  : 

"  We  mout  ez  well  put  him  down  now 
an'  rest  erwhile." 

"  No,"  replied  Potter;  "  let  us  hurry  on 
so  that  a  physician  may  be  summoned." 

"  Dar  ain't  no  use'n  er  doctor,"  said  Alf. 
"  De  man  is  dun  dead." 

So  he  was.  They  put  down  the  stretcher. 
The  sounds  of  hoofs  attracted  their  atten 
tion. 

"  Yonder  comes  Mrs.  Forest,"  said 
John. 

"Yes,"  replied  Potter,  "and  I  will  meet 


122  Up  Terrapin  River. 

her  and  guide  her  away  from  this  awful 
sight." 

"  You  are  the  very  man  I  want  to  see," 
cried  Mrs,  Forest  when  Potter  approached 
within  hailing  distance.  "  I  am  on  my 
way  to  your  house  to  consult  you,"  she 
added,  reining  up  the  horse  when  they 
met  in  the  road.  "I  want  to  ask  your 
advice  about  something.  That  good-for- 
nothing  Bob  Juckels  has  told  Eva  that  he 
set  fire  to  our  house,  and  has  declared  that 
he  will  kill  us  all  if  we — I  hardly  know 
what  all  he  didn't  say,  but  I  want  to  ask 
you  if  you  think  it  best  to  have  him 
arrested !" 

"  He  is  beyond  the  power  of  the  law, 
Mrs.  Forest.  Yonder  he  lies  dead." 


Up  Terrapin  River.  123 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Two  more  years,  years  without  especial 
incident  to  the  people  who  lived  up  Ter 
rapin  River,  passed  away.  Everyone 
knew  of  John  and  Eva's  bethrothal,  and 
as  no  one  had  any  objections  to  offer, 
there  came  not  a  jar,  not  a  harsh  sound 
to  disturb  the  smoothly  flowing  current 
of  their  affection.  One  evening,  as  Potter 
and  John  sat  in  the  old  house  awaiting  the 
return  of  Alf,  who  had  gone  to  Sunset  to 
make  some  small  purchases,  the  young 
man,  after  many  minutes  of  deep  medita 
tion,  looked  up  and  remarked  : 

"  I  have  worked  harder  of  late  in  the 
hope  that  I  might  make  money  enough  to 
place  my  approaching  marriage  upon  a 
sensible  footing,  but  it  seems— 

"  There,  my  boy,"  Potter  broke  in, 
"there  now,  don't  worry.  Of  course 


124  Up  Terrapin  River. 

every  man  should  look  to  the  future,  but 
not  to  brood  in  dark  foreboding.  We  are 
getting  along  very  well,  and  I  think  you 
may  safely— there's  Alf." 

The  old  man  came  in  bringing  several 
bundles.  "  Fetchtaked  fellers  ober  yan- 
der,"  said  he,  "put  er  brick  under  my 
saddle  when  I  had  my  hoss  hitched,  an' 
when  I  got  on  ter  come  home  w'y  de  old 
critter  flung  me  in  de  road.  Huh,  when 
I  hit  de  groun'  I  thought  de  whole  face  o' 
de  yeth  dun  struck  loose.  Suthin'  gwine 
obertake  dem  boys  one  deze  days.  Da's 
dun  forgot  erbout  dem  she  bears  dat 
grabbed  up  dem  mean  white  chillun  when 
da  made  fun  o'  er  old  servant.  Suthin' 
gwine  ter  obertake  'em,  I  tell  you.  Oh, 
you  neenter  laugh,  genermen,  fur  suthin' 
gwine  ter  slip  up  behin'  'em  an'  grab  'em, 
sho." 

They  had  eaten  supper,  and  Potter,  in 
his  favorite  position,  was  leaning  back 
against  the  wall,  when  a  newspaper  in 
which  one  of  the  bundles  had  been 
wrapped,  attracted  his  attention. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  125 

"Alf,  hand  me  that  paper,"  said  he. 
"  I  would  subscribe  for  some  paper  if  we 
lived  nearer  a  post  office.  Ah  !  a  country 
sheet  from  Kentucky.  Let  me  see  if 
Uncle  Billie  Jackson  was  in  town  yester 
day,  or  if  Aunt  Nancy  Phelps  has  the 
thanks  of  the  editor  for  a  choice  lot  of 
radishes.  I  see  that  Uncle  Bob  Redmond 
has  sold  a  fine  colt  to  Anthony  Boyle,  and 
here  is  also  the  startling  information  that 
Abe  Stallcup  has  purchased  the  old  Adams 
place.  I  suppose—  He  started. 

The  paper  shook.  He  sprang  from  the 
chair,  pressed  his  hands  to  his  head,  sank 
upon  his  knees,  clasped  his  hands  and 
exclaimed  : 

-Thank  God!  Thank  God!  Oh, 
merciful  heaven,  it  has  come  at  last !" 

He  bowed  his  head  and  wept.  John 
and  Alf  stood  looking  on  in  speechless 
amazement. 

"  Thank  God.  it  has  come  at  last.  Oh, 
my  friends — you — you " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  John  cried. 

"  Wait.     I — I  will  tell  you.     Here,"  he 


126  Up  Terrapin  River. 

added,  "  read  this.  Read  it  out  for  I 
have  only  seen  its  aim." 

John  took  the  paper  and  read  the 
following : 

"  A  number  of  years  ago,  our  readers 
will  remember,  Hon.  Sam  Bradwell,  who 
lived  near  Lexington,  this  State,  was  con 
victed  of  the  murder  of  Colonel  Joe 
Moore,  and  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged, 
but  made  his  escape  the  night  before  the 
execution  was  to  take  place.  Now  comes 
a  sequel.  About  two  weeks  ago  a  man 
named  Zack  Fry,  supposing  that  he  was 
on  his  death-bed,  confessed  that  he  was 
the  murderer  of  Moore.  But  instead  of 
dying,  he  soon  recovered.  He  was  then 
brought  to  trial,  and,  instead  of  attempt 
ing  to  make  a  defense,  reiterated  his  con 
fession.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged, 
and  his  execution  took  place  last  Friday. 
The  Governor  has  issued  a  proclamation 
declaring  Bradwell  innocent,  and  offers  a 
reward  for  intelligence  of  his  whereabouts. 
Bradwell  was  one  of  the  most  prominent 
men  in  the  State.  He  was  a  bachelor  and 


Up  Terrapin  River.  127 

owns  one  of  the  largest  and  finest  farms 
in  the  famous  Blue  Grass  region.  He 
had  served  three  terms  in  the  Legislature, 
and  but  for  the  Moore  trouble  would 
doubtless  have  been  sent  to  Congress. 
He  and  Moore  were  not  on  friendly 
terms — in  fact,  they  were  opposed  to  each 
other  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  of 
which  body  Moore  was  also  a  member. 
Nothing  has  been  heard  of  Bradwell 
since  his  escape  from  jail.  He  has  no 
very  near  relatives,  and  his  farm,  we 
understand,  is  looked  after  by  a  number 
of  his  friends.  There  is  great  rejoicing, 
we  hear,  over  the  proof  of  his  innocence, 
for  he  was  exceedingly  popular  with  all 
classes,  and  especially  so  with  the  more 
refined  element.  Nearly  every  paper 
throughout  the  country  has  either  pub 
lished  or  referred  to  the  Governor's  proc 
lamation,  and  we  sincerely  trust  that  the 
wanderer  may  soon  return  home." 

Potter,  or  Bradwell,  stood  complacently 
smiling  upon  John  as  he  neared  the  end 
of  the  article.  His  excitement  had  passed 


128  Up  Terrapin  River. 

away,  leaving  not  the  slightest  trace  of 
its  sudden  bursting  forth.  John  sat  in  a 
sort  of  dazed  silence,  gazing  at  his  friends, 
and  Alf,  whose  half-open  mouth  bespoke 
a  mystified  state  of  mind,  stood  leaning 
against  the  wall. 

"  Now,  my  friends,"  said  Bradwell,  "you 
know  why  Sam  Potter  lived  in  this  out-of- 
the-way  place.  Let  us  all  be  perfectly 
easy  now.  Alf,  sit  down.  You  look  as 
though  you  were  about  to  be  hanged.  I 
will  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  as  it 
would  be  almost  impossible  for  me  to 
keep  still,  and  will  tell  you  the  story  of 
my  trouble  in  Kentucky.  As  the  news 
paper  article  states,  Moore  and  I  were 
members  of  the  Legislature.  One  day  he 
introduced  a  bill,  the  passage  of  which  I 
did  not  think  would  be  of  benefit  to  the 
State.  In  fact,  it  was  full  of  what  we 
called  buncombe,  and  was,  I  thought, 
intended  to  play  upon  an  unthoughtful 
constituency  and  insure  the  re-election  of 
its  author  I  opposed  the  measure,  and 
was  somewhat  instrumental  in  its  defeat, 


Up  Terrapin  River.  129 

This  inflamed  Moore's  anger.  He  de 
nounced  me  in  most  violent  terms,  and 
swore  that  he  would  hold  me  to  an 
account  which  might  prove  painful  to  one 
of  us.  The  Legislature  adjourned  the 
next  day,  and,  as  I  did  not  make  it  my 
business  to  look  for  Moore,  I  left  the 
capital  without  seeing  him.  He  lived 
near  Lexington,  to  the  east ;  I  lived  west. 
One  day,  several  weeks  later,  while  riding 
horseback  to  town,  I  saw,  sitting  on  a 
fence,  a  hawk  that  had  just  caught  a 
quail.  I  drew  my  pistol  and  fired  at  the 
hawk,  but  missed  it.  I  went  on  into 
town,  and,  as  I  was  going  to  remain  but  a 
very  short  time,  did  not  put  up  my  horse 
at  a  livery  stable,  but  tied  him  to  a  rack 
in  a  lot  in  the  rear  of  several  stores.  I 
had  transacted  my  business,  and  was 
going  through  an  alley  leading  to  the 
lot,  when  I  heard  the  report  of  a  pistol.  I 
hurried  onward,  and,  upon  turning  into 
the  lot,  came  upon  the  dead  body  of 
Moore.  A  bullet  had  passed  through  his 
head.  Before  I  had  recovered  from  the 


130  Up  Terrapin  River. 

shock  of  so  ghastly  a  discovery,  several 
men  ran  to  the  place,  and  it  was  not  long 
until  a  large  crowd  had  gathered  in  the 
lot.  I  did  not  think  of  my  position,  and 
surely  had  no  idea  that  I  should  be  sus 
pected.  You  may  therefore  well  imagine 
my  surprise  when  the  sheriff  arrested  me. 
I  was  searched.  One  chamber  of  my 
revolver  was  empty,  and,  still  worse,  the 
bullet  which  had  passed  through  Moore's 
head,  and  which  was  extracted  from  a 
cedar  post,  corresponded  in  size  with  the 
bore  of  my  pistol.  I  was  taken  to  jail. 
The  next  day  bail  was  refused.  This  was 
annoying,  but  aside  from  being  suspected 
of  so  grave  a  charge,  I  did  not  regard  the 
affair  as  serious.  I  had  not  counted  upon 
the  men  whom  I  had  to  fight  I  had  not 
thought  of  Moore's  enraged  relatives.  The 
trial  came  on.  There  was  great  excite 
ment.  I  had  many  friends,  but  it  seemed 
that  they  were  afraid  of  the  Moores. 
The  jury  was  cowed.  A  verdict  of  guilty 
was  brought  in.  A  motion  for  a  new 
trial  was  overruled.  My  lawyers,  promi- 


Up  Terrapin  River.  131 

nent  and  able  men,  appealed  to  the 
supreme  court.  The  decision  of  the 
court  below  was  sustained.  The  date  of 
execution  was  fixed.  I  could  not  realize 
it.  One  day  I  saw  through  my  grated 
window  that  men  were  putting  up  a  scaf 
fold  in  the  jail  yard.  My  blood  ran  cold. 
Far  into  the  night  they  carried  their 
labors.  Lanterns,  like  the  red  eyes  of 
vultures,  shed  a  lurid — I  thought  bloody — 
light  upon  the  scene.  I  heard  the  ham 
mers  and  saws.  A  nail  glanced  under 
the  blow  of  a  hammer  and  struck  my  win 
dow.  It  fell  inside  the  cell.  The  ham 
mers  and  saws  hushed  their  awful  noises. 
'  All  done,  Dave  ?'  I  heard  someone  ask. 
'  Yes,'  came  the  reply  ;  '  everything's 
ready.'  The  workmen  went  away.  The 
red  eyes  disappeared,  and  all  was  dark. 
I  got  down  from  the  window  and  found 
the  nail.  It  was  a  large  one.  The  win 
dow  through  which  I  had  been  looking 
was  some  distance  from  the  floor.  The 
Sheriff's  officer  in  the  yard  rarely  glanced 
at  it.  I  heard  the  'death  watch'  whistling 


132  Up  Terrapin  River. 

in  the  corridor.  I  climbed  up  to  the 
window.  The  ends  of  the  bars,  where 
they  fitted  into  the  stones  on  each  side  of 
the  window,  were  made  more  secure  with 
lead  that  had  been  melted  and  poured 
about  them.  With  the  nail  I  soon  gouged 
away  the  lead  from  one  of  the  bars,  but 
the  bar  could. not  be  moved.  I  attempted 
to  gouge  out  more  lead.  I  dropped  the 
nail.  It  fell  outside.  In  despair  I  seized 
the  bar  and  fell  backward.  It  broke.  A 
thrill  shot  through  me.  Had  anyone 
heard  me  ?  No.  The  '  death  watch  ' 
continued  to  whistle.  The  broken  bar 
was  a  powerful  lever.  Another  bar  and 
another  one  was  forced  out,  until  not  one 
remained.  I  looked  out.  No  sounds — 
all  darkness.  I  went  through  the  window, 
feet  foremost,  and  dropped  to  the  ground. 
Heavens,  I  could  not  scale  the  outer  wall ! 
I  thought  of  the  scaffold.  It  was  near  the 
wall.  I  mounted  it.  A  rope  dangled 
from  a  beam  overhead.  I  seized  the  rope, 
swung  out,  turned  loose  and  caught  the 
top  of  the  wall.  In  a  moment  more  I 


Up  Terrapin  River.  133 

was  on  the  ground — free.  I  sank  upon 
my  knees  and  thanked  God.  I  was 
afraid  to  go  home,  so,  without  a  cent  of 
money,  I  set  out  on  my  journey.  I  will 
not  speak  of  my  privations,  of  the  weary 
miles  I  walked — of  how  I  worked  on  a 
new  railroad,  and  how  I  managed  to  get 
a  few  books.  But  I  will  say  this,  my 
dear  boy,  your  face  was  the  first  to  beam 
upon  the  outcast  a  true  and  generous 
welcome.  There,  there  now.  I  am  sorry 
that  my  simple  recital  has  moved  you  to 
tears.  Alf,  what  are  you  blubbering 
about  ?" 

"  Sorter  got  suthin'  in  dis  eye  jes*  now, 
an'  got  suthin'  in  my  throat,  too,  I  b'l'ebe. 
Neber  seed  de  like.  Man  kaint  stan' 
erbout  yere  widout  gittin'  all  used  up, 
things  flyin'  roun'  so." 

John  caught  Bradwell's  hand  and 
pressed  it  to  his  breast.  "  My  dear  boy," 
said  the  giant,  "your  approaching  mar 
riage  is  now  placed  upon  a  sensible  foot 
ing.  You  and  your  wife  shall  go  with  me 
to  Kentucky.  The  farm  is  not  mine,  but 


134  Up  Terrapin  River. 

yours  and  mine.  The  house  is  large,  is 
built  of  stone,  and  in  it  there  are  many 
rare  books.  I  have  all  the  time  trusted 
that  the  light  of  truth  would  fall  upon  that 
crime,  and  now — but  we  will  not  talk 
about  it.  John,  we  will  go  over  to-mor 
row  and  tell  Mrs.  Forest  and  Eva.  Alf, 
you  shall  go  to  Kentucky  with  us." 

John  went  to  bed  in  a  whirl  of  happi 
ness.  He  could  not  sleep  long  at  a  time. 
Joy,  as  well  as  sorrow,  puts  sleep  to 
flight.  Would  morning  never  come  ?  What 
can  come  with  such  slowness  as  a  wished- 
for  day-break  ?  Another  doze.  Sunlight 
streamed  in  upon  the  bed. 

When  Bradwell  had  shown  Mrs.  Forest 
the  newspaper  article,  he  told  his  story. 
The  ladies  were  much  affected,  and  Mrs. 
Forest,  as  she  wiped  her  eyes,  said  : 

"Well,  I  called  you  Bradshaw,  you  re 
member.  I  just  knew  it  was  Brad  some 
thing,  for  I  do  think  that  I  saw  you  in 
Kentucky  years  ago." 

Eva  and  John  walked  along  the  road 
whose  edges  were  fringed  with  flowers. 


Up  Terrapin  River.  135 

"  There  is  nothing  in  our  way  now, 
precious." 

"No,"  she  replied,  "nothing  has  been 
in  the  way,  nothing,  dear,  but  your 
groundless  concern.  Our  life,  I  know, 
will  almost  be  an  ideal  one." 

"  It  shall  be  if  love  and  faithfulness  can 
make  it  so,"  he  replied. 

They  sat  down  on  a  log  and  talked 
until  the  horn  summoned  them  to  dinner. 
That  afternoon,  as  Bradwell  and  John 
were  walking  toward  home,  the  young 
man  remarked  : 

"  Eva  has  only  one  trouble  now." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"  Leaving  her  mother." 

"  Is  she  going  to  leave  her?" 

"  Of  course.  Are  we  not  going  to  Ken 
tucky  ?" 

"Yes  ;  but  Mrs.  Forest,  or  rather  Mrs. 
Bradwell,  is  going  with  us.  Oh,  you 
young  fellows  don't  know  everything." 

They  shook  hands  and  walked  on  in 
happy  silence. 


136  Up  Terrapin  River. 

The  day  was  beautiful.  It  was  autumn, 
and  streaks  of  gray  could  be  seen  in  the 
crab-grass.  Age  and  infirmity  had  given 
to  the  " chatter  jack's"  song  a  harsher 
sound,  and  the  toad,  avoiding  the  grass 
where  the  dew  was  chilly,  stretched  him 
self  in  the  dusty  road. 

The  neighbors  for  miles  around  had 
gathered  at  Mrs.  Forest's  house.  The 
bashful  boy  in  brown  homespun  cast  a 
wistful  eye  at  the  dining-table,  and  the 
half-grown  girl  in  her  linsey  frock  longed 
to  see  the  marriage  ceremonies  per 
formed. 

"Where  is  Alf ?"  Bradwell  asked. 

No  one  knew.  Old  Jeff  Lucas  "  'lowed" 
that  he  must  be  prowling  around  looking 
for  something  to  eat,  and  "Aunt  Liz," 
with  a  violent  wrinkling  of  her  nose,  de 
clared  that  if  he  wanted  anything  to  eat 
he  should  get  it  at  once,  for  she  knew  he 
would  starve  to  death  away  off  there  in 
Kentucky. 

"  Mandy,"  said  Mrs.  Forest,  addressing 
a  colored  woman  who  had  come  to  assist 


Up  Terrapin  River.  137 

in  waiting  on  the  guests,  "  do  you  know 
where  Alf  is  ?" 

"  How  I  know  whar  he  is  ?"  the  woman 
replied.  "  Ef  he  got  bizness  ober  yere  I 
reckon  he  be  yere  airter  while." 

The  ceremonies  were  performed,  and 
while  congratulations  were  still  being  ex 
tended  Alf  stepped  up  on  the  gallery. 
"  Yere,"  he  cried,  waving  a  piece  of  paper, 
"  somebody  else  got  tet  git  married  yere. 
Come  on,  Mandy."  He  and  Mandy  were 
married.  "Oh!"  the  old  negro  exclaimed, 
with  a  pretense  of  great  surprise,  "  I  neber 
did  see  de  like  o'  marryin*  dat's  gwine  on 
dese  days.  Man  kaint  walk  roun'  yere 
widout  bumpin'  ergin  somebody  dat's  dun 
married." 

Bradwell  and  Mrs.  Bradwell,  John  and 
Eva,  were  to  go  to  the  railway  station, 
thirty  miles  away,  in  a  wagon.  Alf  and 
his  wife  would  ride  a  mule  After  many 
farewells  had  been  exchanged,  and  after 
John  had  affectionately  kissed  his  aunt, 
old  Jeffs  wife  remarked: 

"  I  jest  know  you  air  all  goin'  to  starve 


138  Up  Terrapin  River. 

ter  death,  but  don't  think  I  want  ter  keep 
you  here,  fur  goodness  knows  I  don't." 

She  watched  the  wagon  until  it  had 
turned  a  bend  in  the  road,  and  then,  clasp 
ing  her  hands  over  old  Jeff's  shoulder, 
bowed  her  head  and  sobbed. 

The  bridal  party  stood  on  the  railway 
platform.  "Eva,"  said  John,  "are  you 
happy  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  soul  is  filled  with  a  quiet  joy." 

The  train  came  within  sight.  "  It  is 
the  vehicle,"  said  John,  gazing  up  the 
road,  "  that  is  to  convey  us  to  a  new  and 
happy  life." 

"Yes." 

Bradwell  lifted  his  hand  to  point  out 
something.  John  seized  it  and  pressed  it 
to  his  breast. 


BEHIND  A  BUGLER. 


The  conversation  had  turned  upon  the 
war  and  the  old  soldiers'  fondness  for 
reminiscence  had  been  freely  indulged, 
when  someone,  addressing  Alf  Billingsly, 
asked  if  he  had  served  during  the  war. 

"  No,"  Billingsly  replied.  "  I  was  not 
in  the  army,  but  I  was  in  one  engagement. 
I  was  a  boy  and  was  living  in  Gallatin, 
Tenn.,  when  John  Morgan  dashed  in  and 
captured  Colonel  Boon.  Some  time  had 
elapsed  since  the  Confederate  forces  were 
driven  away,  and  the  villagers,  especially 
the  boys,  were  almost  wild  with  joy  at  the 
sight  of  gray  uniform.  A  season  of  feast 
ing  followed,  and  then  there  came  the 
report  that  Colonel  Johnson,  a  dashing 
Federal  officer,  was,  with  a  thousand 
picked  cavalrymen,  advancing  upon  the 
(139) 


140  Behind  a  Bugler. 

town.  My  mother  gathered  her  children 
about  her  and  took  refuge  in  a  cellar,  but, 
feeling  that  my  pride  had  been  trampled 
upon,  I  escaped  and  mingled  with  the 
soldiers  that  were  preparing  for  battle. 
Old  wine,  and  whisky  of  less  venerable 
age,  had  flowed  during  the  feast,  and  many 
of  the  men  and  officers  were  drunk.  Some 
were  singing  songs  of  more  implied  pa 
triotism  than  of  actual  tune ;  others,  with 
the  rising  fervor  of  tipsyness,  declared 
that  they  would  not  go  home  till  morn 
ing.  Ah,  before  the  next  morning  came 
many  of  them  had  gone  home.  I  impor 
tuned  a  bugler  to  let  me  get  on  his  horse 
behind  him  and  ride  out  to  the  battle. 
He  said  that  if  I  would  take  his  canteen 
over  to  the  house  of  a  well-known  old 
negro  and  bring  it  back  full  of  peach 
brandy,  I  might  go  home  with  him.  I 
did  so,  having  left  with  the  negro  my  hat 
and  jacket  as  pawned  evidences  of  good 
faith,  and  took  my  place  behind  the 
bugler.  An  officer  ordered  me  to  get 
down,  but  I  begged  so  hard  that  his  reck- 


Behind  a    Bugler.  141 

less  good  humor  overcame  his  soberer 
sense  of  discipline.  With  shouts  and 
songs  of  discordant  loudness  we  marched 
out  to  battle.  The  morning  was  beauti 
ful.  The  ironweed  was  in  bloom,  and 
sitting  on  its  purple  top  the  dryfly  sang 
the  song  of  midsummer.  Mockingbirds 
flitted  in  the  apple  trees,  and  the  bee- 
martin  flew  round  and  round,  waiting  for 
a  sight  of  the  honey-laden  laborer  that 
had  just  gone  over  into  a  field  of  clover. 
The  troops  dashed  out  upon  a  blue-grass 
plane,  jeweled  here  and  there  with  the 
rich  setting  of  a  long-cared-for  and  mag 
nificent  tree.  Over  the  brow  of  a  green 
slope — the  phrenological  bump  of  percep 
tion  on  the  face  of  the  landscape — the 
enemy  was  seen  advancing.  It  was  to  be 
a  cavalry  fight.  It  was  to  be  a  shock  of 
horse  and  a  clash  of  sabre.  I  looked  to 
the  right  and  saw  that  our  men  were 
stretched  out  in  a  long  line,  and  looking 
ahead,  I  saw  that  the  enemy  was  in  sim 
ilar  form.  My  friend  blew  his  bugle. 
Every  horse  dashed  forward.  A  line  of 


142  Behind  a   Bugler. 

blue  dashed  to  meet  us.  I  felt  a  keen 
sense  of  delight.  My  friend  blew  his 
bugle.  Clash  !  The  two  lines  had  met 
with  drawn  sabres.  It  was  a  beautiful 
sight.  Not  a  shot  had  been  fired.  There 
was  no  dust.  Clash !  Far  to  the  right, 
as  the  sabres  flashed,  there  were  two  long 
lines  of  brightness,  broken  into  whirling 
glints  of  sun-ray-catching  silver.  I  may 
not  have  had  the  spirit  of  a  poet,  but  the 
beauty  and  not  the  horror  impressed  me. 
I  lost  not  an  adjunct — I  failed  not  to 
catch  a  single  shading.  I  saw  a  bee- 
martin  catch  a  bee ;  T  saw  an  ironweed 
bend  its  purple  head  beneath  the  touch 
of  a  lark ;  I  saw  a  man,  with  his  skull 
split  open  fall  to  the  ground.  My  friend 
blew  his  bugle.  The  horses  leaped  for 
ward.  The  line  of  blue  began  to  grow 
ragged.  Wild  shouts  arose.  Gunshots 
with,  it  seemed  to  me,  intruding  noise  like 
the  yap,  yap,  yap  of  a  stray  dog,  rang  out 
here  and  there.  The  enemy  was  retreat 
ing.  My  friend,  standing  in  his  stirrups, 
waved  his  bugle  high  in  the  air  and  then 


Behind  a   Bugler.  143 

blew  upon  it  a  triumphant  blast.  The 
enemy  made  a  stand,  and  again  the  sabres 
flashed,  but  the  old  wine  and  new  whisky 
made  the  Confederates  impetuous.  My 
friend  blew  his  bugle.  The  opposing  line 
broke,  and  then  there  came  gunshots  with, 
it  seemed  to  me,  a  sort  of  revengful  bark. 
My  friend  lifted  his  bugle,  but  did  not 
blow  it.  I  thought  that  he  had  taken  pity 
upon  the  vanquished  line.  We  bounded 
forward.  My  friend  began  to  lean  back 
against  me.  He  was  laughing,  I  could 
plainly  see.  He  leaned  back  farther. 
4  Don't  lean  back  so  far,'  I  said.  '  Stop; 
don't  you  see  you  are  about  to  shove  me 
off?'  He  leaned  back  farther.  I  moved 
to  one  side — reached  around  and  took 
hold  of  the  horn  of  the  saddle.  Blood 
spurted  from  the  bugler's  breast.  I 
looked  up  and  saw  that  death  had  thrown 
its  film  into  his  eyes.  I  reached  down 
with  my  foot  and  kicked  the  stirrup  away. 
The  bugler  leaned  over  and  fell  to  the 
ground.  I  got  into  the  saddle,  rode  up 
to  a  fence,  threw  the  bridle  rein  over  a 


144  Behind  a   Bugler. 

stake,  climbed  down  off  the  horse  and  ran 
away.  I  went  back  over  the  grassy  slope. 
I  saw  a  martin  catch  a  bee;  I  saw  the 
purple  head  of  the  ironweed  bend 
beneath  the  touch  of  the  lark." 


IN  THE 

CUMBERLAND  MOUNTAINS.    . 

A  physician  told  Tom  Blake  that  he 
not  only  needed  a  change  of  scene,  but 
that  to  regain  his  health  he  required  abso 
lute  freedom  from  business  cares.  "  I 
would  advise  you,"  said  the  doctor,  "  to 
get  on  a  horse  and  ride  away,  no  matter 
whither.  Go  to  the  mountains — shun  the 
merest  suggestions  of  civilization;  in  short, 
sleep  out  like  a  bear." 

Blake  attempted  to  act  upon  this  advice. 
He  stuffed  a  few  shirts  into  a  pair  of  sad- 
dlebags,  mounted  a  jolting  horse,  and  rode 
up  into  the  grandeur  of  rugged  mountain 
gorges.  But  to  him  the  scenery  imparted 
no  thrill  of  admiration.  His  heart  beat 
low,  and  his  pulse  quivered  with  a  weak 
ening  flutter.  The  fox  that  in  sudden 
alarm  sprang  across  the  pathway,  the 
10  (145) 


146    In  the  Cumberland  Mountains. 

raccoon  that,  with  awkward  scramble, 
climbed  a  leaning  tree,  called  not  for  a 
momentary  quickening  of  his  blood.  He 
was  passing  through  one  of  the  most  dis 
tressing  of  human  trials.  He  had  no 
disease ;  every  muscle  was  sound.  What, 
then,  was  the  trouble?  You  shall  know. 

He  lay  at  night  in  a  bank  of  leaves. 
Now  everything  startled  him.  He  trem 
bled  violently  when  the  sun  went  down. 
Once  he  sprang,  with  a  cry  of  alarm,  from 
his  bed  of  leaves.  Then  he  lay  down 
again,  ashamed.  The  horse  had  snorted. 

Farther  and  farther  he  went  into  the 
wildness  of  the  mountains.  One  evening 
he  came  upon  a  narrow  road,  and,  follow 
ing  it  for  some  distance,  saw  a  house.  It 
was  an  old  inn,  with  a  suggestion  of  the 
brigand  about  it.  He  tied  his  horse  to  a 
fence  made  of  poles  and  went  into  the 
house.  There  he  found  a  man  with  a 
parchment  face  and  small,  evil  eyes,  and  a 
woman  who,  on  the  stage,  could  have 
appropriately  taken  the  role  of  hag. 

"Why,  come  in,  sir,  come  in,"  said  the 


In  the  Cumberland  Mountains.     147 

man,  getting  up  and  placing  a  chair  for 
Blake.  "Wife  and  I  have  been  so  lone 
some  for  the  last  day  or  so  that  we  have 
been  wishing  somebody  would  come. 
Haven't  we,  Moll  ?" 

The  woman  removed  a  cob  pipe  from 
her  mouth,  drew  the  back  of  a  skinny 
hand  across  her  blue-looking  lips,  made  a 
noise  like  the  guttural  croak  of  an  old 
hen  with  the  roup,  and  said,  ''Yes." 

"You'll  of  course  stay  all  night  with 
us,"  the  man  remarked.  "  We  can't  pos 
sibly  allow  you  to  go  on,  especially  as  we 
are  going  to  have  falling  weather.  Oh, 
when  it  comes  to  hospitality,  why,  you'll 
find  it  right  here.  I'll  go  out  and  put  up 
your  horse." 

Blake  entered  no  objections.  His  de 
plorable  condition  would  have  forced  him 
into  a  compliance  with  almost  any  sort  of 
proposition.  The  man  went  out,  put  up 
the  horse,  and  soon  returned  with  a  log  of 
wood.  "  The  more  fire  we  have  the  more 
cheerful  it  will  be,"  he  explained.  "  Out 
prospecting  ?"  he  asked. 

10 


148    In  the  Cumberland  Mountains. 

"No,"  Blake  answered. 

"  Don't  live  nowhere  near  here,  I 
reckon  ?" 

"No." 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  remain  in 
this  part  of  the  country  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

The  old  woman  mumbled  and  then, 
with  a  grating  croak,  said  : 

"  He  don't  'pear  willin'  ter  tell  much 
about  hisse'f.  Some  folks  is  mighty 
curi's  thater  way. " 

"  Never  mind,  Moll,"  the  host  quickly 
responded.  "  It  ain't  quite  time1  for  you 
to  put  in,  except  in  the  way  of  getting  us 
a  bite  to  eat." 

She  arose,  without  replying,  and  began 
preparations  for  supper. 

"  It  is  a  dull  time  of  the  year  with  us," 
said  the  host.  "It  has  been  about  two 
weeks  since  our  last  boarder  left.  But  I 
reckon  business  will  pearten  up  a  little 
when  the  fishing  season  opens." 

Blake  paid  no  attention,  except  when 
some  sharp  and  unexpected  note  in  the 


In  the  Cumberland  Mountains.     149 

old  man's  voice  produced  a  tingling  of  the 
nerves. 

Shortly  after  supper,  Blake  declared 
his  readiness  to  go  to  bed.  He  was 
shown  into  a  sort  of  shed  room,  separated 
by  a  thin  partition  from  the  room  which 
he  had  just  quitted.  The  old  man  placed 
a  spluttering  candle  on  the  hearth,  and, 
expressing  the  hope  that  his  guest  would 
pass  a  quiet  and  peaceful  night,  withdrew. 

Blake  lay  unable  to  sleep.  Once  the 
spluttering  candle  caused  him  to  spring 
up  in  bed.  Suddenly  his  ears,  extremely 
sensitive  with  his  nervousness,  caught  the 
sounds  of  a  whispered  conversation. 

"  It  won't  do  to  shed  blood,"  said  the 
old  man.  "It  won't  do,  for  we  made  a 
mighty  narrow  escape  the  last  time.  It's 
impossible  to  get  blood  stains  out  of  the 
house. 

"  I  bTeve  them  saddlebags  air  full  uv 
money,"  the  hag  replied. 

"  I  don't  doubt  that,  and  weVe  got  to 
have  it." 

41  How  air  you  goin'  ter  git  it  ?" 


1 50    In  the  Cumberland  Mountains. 

"  Poison  him.  I  wasn't  a  sort  of  doctor 
all  these  years  for  nothing." 

"  You  never  was  no  doctor  ter  hurt." 

"  But  I'll  be  a  doctor  to-night  to  hurt." 

"  How  air  you  goin'  ter  pizen  him  ? 
Thar  ain't  a  speck  uv  pizen  on  the  place." 

"  Where  is  that  morphine  ?" 

"Up  thar  in  the  bottle,  but  will  that 
fix  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  in  such  a  way  that  nobody 
will  suspect  anything."' 

"  How  air  you  goin'  ter  do  ?  Hold  it 
under  his  nose  ?" 

"Hold  it  under  his  foot !"  the  man 
contemptuously  replied.  "  I  am  going  to 
make  him  take  it." 

"How?" 

"  I'll  fix  it." 

Then  there  occurred  a  whispering  of 
which  Blake  caught  the  following  : 

"  Think  that's  ernuff  ?"  the  woman 
asked. 

"It's  nearly  half  a  teaspoonful.  Enough 
to  make  five  men  sleep  throughout 
eternity." 


In  the  Cumberland  Mountains.     1 5 1 

A  moment  later  the  host  entered 
Blake's  room.  His  manner  was  free  from 
embarrassment.  In  one  hand  he  held  a 
glass  containing  water. 

"  Stranger,  I  don't  want  to  disturb  you, 
but  it  occurred  to  me  just  now  that  you 
looked  as  if  you  might  be  going  to  have 
a  spell  of  sickness,  so  I  thought  I  would 
bring  you  some  medicine.  I  am  willing 
to  help  a  man,  but  I  don't  want  him  to  be 
sick  on  my  hands.  I  am  a  doctor,  but  I 
don't  propose  to  keep  a  hospital." 

"  Suppose  I  refuse  to  take  the  med 
icine  ?" 

"  Then  you'll  put  me  to  the  trouble  of 
pouring  it  down  you,  that's  all.  I  am  a 
mighty  gentle  sort  of  a  fellow  as  long  as 
everything  goes  on  all  right,  but  if  a 
hitch  occurs,  why  I  am  as  rough  as  a 
swamp  oak." 

"Are  you  sure  the  medicine  will  not 
hurt  me  ?" 

"Hurt  you!  Why,  it  will  do  you  good. 
Here,  swallow  it  down." 

Blake  drank  the  contents  of  the  glass. 


152    In  the  Cumberland  Mountains. 

The  host  smiled,  bowed,  and  withdrew. 
Then  there  followed  another  whispered 
conversation." 

"  Tuck  it  all  right,  did  he  ?" 

"  Like  a  lamb.  He'll  be  all  right  in  a 
half-hour  from  now." 

During  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  Blake 
lay  quietly  in  bed.  Then  he  got  up, 
dressed  himself  noiselessly,  arranged  the 
bed  covers  to  resemble  the  form  of  a  man, 
took  his  saddlebags,  stepped  out  at  a  back 
door,  went  to  the  stable,  saddled  his  horse, 
mounted  and  rode  up  to  a  window  and 
looked  into  the  room  which  he  had  occu 
pied.  Cattle  were  tramping  about  the 
yard,  and  the  noise  made  by  the  horse  at 
tracted  no  attention.  He  took  a  position 
so  that  he  could,  unobserved,  see  all  that 
passed  within  the  room.  The  "doctor" 
and  the  old  woman  soon  entered.  They 
made  no  attempt  to  speak  in  low  tones. 

"  Whar  is  his  saddlebags  ?"  the  woman 
asked. 

"  Under  his  head,  I  reckon.  Snatch 
off  the  covers.  He  won't  wake  up." 


In  the  Cumberland  Mountains.     153 

The  old  woman  pulled  off  the  covers 
and  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise.  Blake 
tapped  on  the  window  glass. 

"  Say,  Doc,"  he  called,  "  bring  me  the 
rest  of  that  morphine.  You  see,  I  have 
been  a  morphine  eater  for  a  number  or 
years,  but  am  trying  to  quit.  Your  dose 
came  in  pretty  handy,  for  I  was  in  a  bad 
fix.  I  am  all  right  now,  and  am  mud 
obliged  to  you.  Good-night.1' 

Less  than  a  week  from  that  time  the 
"  doctor "  and  his  wife  were  in  jail, 
charged  with  the  murder  of  a  traveler. 
They  were  hanged  at  Greenville  last 
September. 


A  COMMERCIAL  RIP-SNORTER. 


Several  years  ago  I  was  the  editor  and 
proprietor  of  the  New  Ebeneezer  Plow 
Point.  It  was  a  weekly  publication,  and, 
with  its  name  as  well  as  with  its  class  of 
matter,  appealed  to  the  farmers,  and 
danced  a  pandering  jig  to  the  shrill  whistle 
of  their  prejudices.  One  day  E.  Sim  Nolan, 
a  prominent  man  in  the  community,  came 
into  my  office  and  said  : 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  for  the 
past  day  or  two,  and  I  think  that  with  my 
keen  business  instincts  I  have  unearthed 
the  stone  with  which  you  may  pave  your 
way  to  fortune.  Writing  is  a  very  fine 
accomplishment  and  plays  its  little  part  in 
journalism,  but  it  is  not  the  main  thing. 
Now,  the  main  thing  in  the  newspaper 
business  is  to  achieve  success.  '  How 
(154) 


A  Commercial  Rip-Snorter.        155 

can  this  be  done  ?'  you  naturally  ask.  Not 
by  advising  the  county  to  repair  the 
bridge  over  Cypress  Bayou ;  not  the 
editorial  advising  the  party  to  organize, 
but  by  getting  business.  One  line  in  a 
thoroughly  thrifty  paper  is  worth  more 
and  has  more  weight  than  a  thousand 
lines  in  a  dragging  publication  that  has  to 
apologize  every  other  week  for  its  inability 
to  get  out  on  time.  You  want  a  partner, 
not  to  help  you  write,  but  a  commercial 
rip-snorter,  who  can  run  business  into  a 
corner,  choke  it  into  submission,  and  then 
drag  it  into  the  office.  That's  the  kind  of 
a  man  you  need.  '  Where  can  I  find 
him  ?'  you  are  about  to  ask.  You  have 
found  him,  or  rather  he  has  found  you.  I 
am  that  man.  I  am  that  commercial  rip- 
snorter.  I  can  go  out  and  in  two  days 
load  the  Plow  Point  so  full  of  advertise 
ments  that  you'll  have  to  put  up  side 
boards.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  your  ability,"  I 
replied,  "  but  I  can  not  afford  to  pay  you." 

"  You  don't  have  to  pay  me.     The  work 


156       A  Commercial  Rip-Snorter. 

will  pay  for  itself.  Now  here  ;  say  that 
you  are  making  seventy-five  dollars  per 
month.  Very  well.  The  commercial  rip- 
snorter  comes  in.  You  get  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  per  month  and  the  com 
mercial  rip-snorter  gets  one  fifty.  W'y,  it's 
as  plain  and  simple  and  guileless  as  the 
soft  laughter  of  a  child.  It  shall  not  be 
for  one  month  but  for  all  time.  In  short, 
take  me  in  as  a  partner.  What  is  the 
greatest  business  stimulant  ?  Salary  ? 
No,  sir.  Proprietary  interest.  Give  me 
a  half  interest  in  your  paper,  and  it  will 
fly  higher  than  the  kite  of  Franklin.  It 
will  roar  louder  than  a  cyclone,  and 
scatter  dollars  where  we  can  easily  gather 
them  up.  As  a  rule,  I  am  not  an  enthusi 
ast.  Ordinarily  I  am  a  quiet  man.  The 
soldier  is  quiet  until  his  grand  occasion 


comes." 


I  told  him  that  I  would  think  about  it 
and  give  him  an  answer  on  the  following 
day.  That  afternoon  I  consulted  with 
several  friends.  The  county  judge  de 
clared  that  when  Nolan  put  his  shoulder 


A  Commercial  Rip-Snorter.        1 5  7 

to  the  wheel  the  wagon  moved.  The 
county  attorney  said  that  I  could  well 
afford  to  pay  Nolan  to  take  a  half 
interest.  That  night  I  went  to  bed  in  a 
highly  agreeable  state  of  mind.  The 
clouds  were  breaking  away,  and  I  could 
see  the  sun  shining.  The  business  cares 
of  the  office  would  be  lifted  off  my  mind, 
and  I  could  devote  myself  to  writing  and 
to  study.  With  nothing  to  do  but  to 
digest  my  subjects,  I  could  write  editorials 
that  would  establish  me  as  a  party  leader. 
I  dreamed  of  w<^b  perfecting  presses,  and 
of  being  consulted  by  great  politicians.  I 
hummed  a  tune  before  breakfast  The 
trade  was  soon  consummated ;  and,  de 
livering  the  books  to  Nolan,  I  seated 
myself  in  my  inner  sanctum,  warmed  by  a 
stove  pipe  which  came  through  from  an 
adjoining  shed  occupied  by  a  shoemaker, 
and  gave  myself  up  to  deep  thought.  At 
last  my  time  had  come.  At  last  the 
people  must  acknowledge  my  leader- 
writing  ability.  The  next  day  Nolan 
brought  in  a  few  advertisements.  Ah, 


158       A  Commercial  Rip-Snorter. 

the  ripened  fruit  had  already  begun 
to  fall. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Nolan,  as  he  seated 
himself  on  a  corner  of  my  table,  "  I  have 
got  a  great  scheme  on  hand." 

"  Glad  of  it,"  I  rapturously  replied. 
-What  is  it?" 

"A  number  of  our  most  prominent  men 
have  boned  me  to  run  for  sheriff." 

4<  But  will  it  not  take  up  too  much  of 
your  time  ?" 

"  Why,  no.  You  see,  I  can  be  elected 
as  easily  as  falling  off  a  log,  and  then,  as 
sheriff,  I  can  flood  our  paper  with  legal 
advertisements." 

"  Nolan,  you  are  a  remarkable  man." 

"  You  just  wait." 

I  wrote  editorials  in  his  behalf,  and 
even  left  my  sanctum  and  made  speeches 
for  him.  He  was  elected.  He  turned 
over  his  newspaper  books  to  his  son,  and 
took  charge  of  the  sheriff's  office.  The 
boy  sat  in  the  office,  and,  during  the  fore 
noon,  whistled  a  circus  tune.  In  the 
afternoon  he  got  drunk.  A  few  days 


A  Commercial  Rip-Snorter.        159 

after  Nolan  was  installed,  I  went  over  to 
get  an  armful  of  legal  advertisements. 
There  were  none  on  hand  just  at  that 
time,  Nolan  told  me.  "  In  fact,"  said  he 
"it  has  been  decided  not  to  print  the 
delinquent-tax  list  this  year." 

I  was  disappointed.  The  boy  whistled 
his  circus  tune  and  then  went  out  and  got 
drunk.  The  next  day,  when  I  wanted  to 
draw  five  dollars,  the  boy  gave  me  thirty- 
five  cents.  Bills  began  to  come  in,  and 
my  deep  thought  was  much  disturbed  by 
them.  One  morning  Nolan  came  in,  and, 
after  whistling  in  imitation  of  his  son, 
said: 

"  It's  pretty  tough." 

-What  is?" 

"  Why,  as  sheriff,  I've  got  to  take 
charge  of  this  office.  Paper  bill." 

I  was  staggered. 

"Can't  we  pay  our  bill?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Haven't  any  money  at  present,  I  am 
sorry  to  say.  I  regret  now  that  I  ran  for 
sheriff,  for  it's  devilish  uncomfortable  to 
close  out  a  partner." 


160       A  Commercial  Rip-Snorter. 

I  did  not  exactly  understand  it,  but 
when  he  served  an  execution  on  me  I 
went  out.  As  sheriff,  he  took  charge  of 
the  office,  discharged  his  son,  and  took 
charge  of  the  business  and  editorial 
departments.  I  consulted  several  law 
yers.  They  said  that  I  was  out.  I  knew 
that.  They  didn't  know  how  I  could  get 
in  again.  The  law  was  very  peculiar.  I 
knew  that,  too.  I  found  out  afterward 
that  Nolan  had  called  on  all  the  lawyers, 
and  had  told  them  that  if  they  interfered 
with  his  affairs,  he  would  bear  down  on 
their  clients,  and  as  most  of  their  clie  .its 
were  in  jail,  they  did  not  interfere. 
Nolan,  as  sheriff — and  he  is  now  serving 
his  fourth  term — is  still  editor  and  pro 
prietor  of  the  New  Ebeneezer  Plow  Point. 


HIS  FRIEND  FLANDERS. 


When  the  hum  in  the  court-room 
had  settled  into  an  occasional  whisper, 
the  judge  asked  the  prisoner  if  he  would 
like  to  make  a  statement.  The  prisoner, 
a  slender  man,  with  hair  holding  a  slight 
intention  to  curl,  and  with  eyes  large  and 
willful,  arose  and  made  this  statement : 

John  Flanders  and  I  were  the  best  of 
friends,  though  we  were  not  drawn  toward 
each  other  by  any  common  ties  of  voca 
tion.  In  the  early  part  of  my  life  I  turned 
to  literature,  not  that  I  expected  to  realize 
a  fortune  in  such  a  pursuit,  but  because  I 
could  do  nothing  else.  Flanders  was  a 
sort  of  general  speculator.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  every  time  he  stepped  out  in  the 
street  he  saw  a  dollar,  chased  it,  overtook 
it,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  My  work  was 

11  (161) 


1 62  His  Friend  Flanders. 

difficult  and  uncertain ;  and  the  pigeon 
holes  of  my  desk  were  often  stuffed  with 
rejected  manuscripts.  Gradually  I  dis 
covered  that  I  could  not  write  if  I  knew 
that  Flanders  was  in  the  same  building  in 
which  I  had  a  room.  At  first  I  regarded 
this  feeling  as  a  nervous  freak,  and  tried 
to  put  it  aside,  but  then,  finding  that 
every  literary  thought  had  flown  away 
from  me,  I  would  discover  that  Flanders 
was  in  the  building.  One  day  when  I 
heard  his  footsteps  in  the  hall  I  called 
him  into  my  room.  "  Flanders,"  said  I, 
"you  know  that  I  have  to  make  my  living 
by  literary  work  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Well,  but  do  you  know  that  you  con 
tribute  largely  to  my  failure  ?" 

"  No,"  he  replied;  "how  can  that  be?" 

"  It  is  in  this  way,  Flanders :  I  can  not 
write  while  you  are  in  this  building.  Just 
so  soon  as  you  step  into  the  elevator 
downstairs,  my  ideas  droop  and  my  pen 
splutters." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  rejoined. 


His   Friend   Flanders.  163 

"  I  know  you  are,"  said  I,  "  for  there  is 
not  in  the  world  a  more  sympathetic  man 
than  you  are." 

"  If  I  am  so  sympathetic,  then  why 
should  I  disturb  you  so  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Flanders,  but  you  do 
disturb  me.  Now,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask 
of  you." 

"  It  shall  be  granted." 

'*  It  is  this :  please  do  not  come  into 
this  building  again." 

"  I  will  stay  away,"  he  said. 

He  did  not  come  into  the  building 
again,  and  for  a  time  I  wrote  with  ease; 
but  one  day  my  ideas  flew  away  and  my 
pen  cut  through  the  paper.  I  knew  that 
Flanders  was  not  in  the  building,  but  I 
knew  that  he  was  in  town.  I  strove  to 
write,  but  this  fact  weighed  upon  me.  I 
went  out  to  look  for  Flanders.  I  found 
him  in  the  Open  Board  of  Trade,  busily 
engaged  in  driving  a  bargain.  I  drew 
him  to  one  side. 

"  Flanders,"  said   I,    "you   have  again 
put  my  ideas  to  flight." 
11 


164  His   Friend  Flanders. 

"How  so?"  he  asked.  "I  have  not 
been  in  your  building  since  you  requested 
me  to  keep  away." 

"  I  know  that ;  but  you  are  in  Chicago, 
and  I  have  discovered  that  I  can  not  write 
if  we  are  in  the  same  town.  Now,  it 
really  makes  no  difference  to  you  where 
you  are." 

"  No,"  he  replied, 

"  You  can  make  a  living  anywhere." 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  leave  this  city." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  "  I  will  go  to 
New  York." 

I  bade  him  an  affectionate  good-by, 
and  he  left  on  the  next  eastern-bound 
train.  I  returned  to  my  work  with  a  feel 
ing  of  refreshment.  My  pen  tripped  over 
the  paper  with  graceful  airiness,  and  my 
thoughts,  arrayed  in  gay  apparel,  sported 
joyously.  Thus  several  weeks  went  by, 
but  one  day  my  pen  stopped.  I  urged  it, 
as  a  farmer  urges  a  balky  horse,  but  it 
refused  to  move  forward.  It  was  because 
Flanders  was  in  this  country.  I  wrote  to 


His   Friend  Flanders  165 

him:  "  Flanders,"  said  I,  "  you  must  leave 
New  York — must  leave  the  United  States. 
I  can  not  write  if  we  are  both  under  the 
same  flag.  I  have  a  great  piece  of  work 
to  perform  and  I  know  that  you  will  not 
seek  to  deprive  me  of  the  fame  which  its 
accomplishment  will  bring.  Please  leave 
this  country." 

A  few  days  later  I  received  the  follow 
ing  reply:  "  I  leave  to-day  for  London." 

Again  I  went  to  work  with  a  thrill  of 
pleasure.  The  rosebuds  of  thought  opened 
with  each  passing  breeze  of  inspiration. 
A  month  passed.  One  day  my  pen  fell. 
Instantly  my  thoughts  flew  to  Flanders, 
and  I  sadly  shook  my  head.  I  could  not 
write  if  Flanders  and  I  lived  in  English- 
speaking  countries.  I  wrote  to  him.  He 
was  still  generous,  for  in  his  reply  he  said : 
"  I  appreciate  your  feelings.  To-morrow 
I  shall  sail  for  Asia." 

Again  I  experienced  the  usual  relief, 
and  the  rosebuds  which  had  so  long  been 
covered  with  dust,  opened  with  blooming 
freshness.  Flanders  wrote  to  me  from 


[66  His  Friend  Flanders. 

Pekin.  Then  my  pen  fell  again.  I  could 
not  write  if  he  and  I  were  in  the  same 
world.  I  replied  to  his  letter :  "  Flan 
ders,"  said  I,  "  come  home  at  once." 

I  waited  two  weary  months.  One  night, 
just  as  I  had  lighted  my  lamp  and  sat 
down  to  dream  with  De  Quincy,  Flanders 
shoved  open  the  door  and  entered  the 
room.  I  threw  my  arms  about  him  and 
pressed  him  to  me  for  I  loved  him. 

"  Are  you  glad  to  see  me,  Flanders  ?" 
I  asked,  shoving  him  into  an  easy  seat. 

"  Delighted,"  he  replied.  "  What  is  it 
you  would  have  me  do  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  sit  where  you  are." 

He  looked  at  me  with  affection.  His 
eyes  were  soft  and  glowing.  I  reached  into 
my  desk  and  took  out  a  sharp  paper-cut 
ter,  and,  as  Flanders  was  beaming  upon 
me,  I  stabbed  him.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  threw  his  arms  about  me,  but  I 
stabbed  him  again  and  again.  He  sank 
to  the  floor  and  I  sat  down  to  my  work. 
Oh,  how  my  thoughts  flew.  With  wings 
that  were  feathered  with  silvery  down  and 


His  Friend  Flanders.  167 

tipped  with  gold,  they  soared  higher  and 
higher.  I 

"  Hold  on,"  said  the  judge.  "  I  would 
not  have  permitted  this  statement  had  I 
not  from  the  first  been  interested  in  its 
very  curiousness.  You  are  not  charged 
with  the  murder  of  anyone  named 
Flanders.  You  found  a  little  boy  playing 
among  the  flowers  in  a  park  and  slew 
him." 

The  prisoner  pressed  his  hands  to  his 
head.  "  Oh,"  he  cried,  "if  Flanders  be 
not  dead  I  can  not  write.  He  would  not 
deprive  me  of  the  fame " 

An  officer  led  him  away. 


HENDRICKS  KNEW  IT. 


Jasper  Hendricks,  old  man  Blue,  Abe 
Stallcup,  and  several  other  men,  farmers 
in  the  neighborhood,  sat,  one  rainy  day, 
about  the  fireplace  in  a  Tennessee  cross 
roads  store.  Autumn  had  just  begun  to 
enforce  its  principles — that  is,  a  lingering 
mildness  of  atmosphere  had  just  turned 
cool  enough  to  shiver  a  little  when  the 
sun  had  sunk  behind  the  distant  timber 
line.  The  "evangelist"  had  made  his 
annual  fall  visit  to  the  neighborhood, 
and,  assisted  by  local  talent,  was  hold 
ing  a  revival  in  Round  Pound  meeting 
house. 

The  party  of  men  in  the  store  had  been 
discussing  the  main  features  of  the  meet 
ing,  and  in  their  crude  way  had  been 
speculating  upon  religion  in  general,  when 

(168) 


Hendricks  Knew  It.  169 

old  man  Blue,  a  deacon  and  an  ultra- 
religionist,  remarked  : 

"Wall,  gentlew^,  it's  all  right  ter  talk, 
but  when  the  ho'n  blows,  callin'  us  ter  a 
final  settle;;^;//,  w'y  we  jest  nachully  cave; 
that's  all.  The  bravest  man  in  the  world 
would  a  leetle  ruther  stay  here,  ef  he's  in 
his  right  mind,  than  ter  take  the  chances 
in  a  neighborhood  (as  a  feller  named 
Hamestring  or  Hamlet,  I  dunno  which, 
once  said)  frum  which  thar  ain't  nobody 
returned  ter  tell  us  the  condition  uv  the 
craps  an'  sich.  Now  I've  a  putty  strong 
hope  that  my  after-life  will  be  smooth  an' 
easy,  but  I'll  jest  tell  you  whut's  cr  fack, 
I'd  ruther  stay  here  er  leetle  longer,  even 
ef  I  hafter  plow  with  er  jumpin'  coulter 
an'  break  a  yoke  of  calves  urcasion'ly,  than 
ter  go  thar." 

"You  air  right!"  Stallcup  responded. 
"At  times  when  we  air  sorter  shoutin' 
round  the  mourner's  bench  we  feel  like 
we  wouldn't  kere  ef  we  wuz  called  erway 
at  wunst,  but  airter  we  git  out  an'  see  the 
sun  shine  the  next  day,  an'  see  the  birds 


170  Hendricks  Knew  It. 

erhoppin'  erround  the  straw-stack,  an* 
lissen  ter  the  ole  jaybird  that's  dun  picked 
a  quarrel  with  the  yallerhammer,  w'y  we 
feel  sorter  like  stayin'  here  a  while  longer." 

Then  Jasper  Hendricks  spoke.  Every 
one  turned  to  pay  him  particular  atten 
tion.  He  was  the  one  man  in  the  neigh 
borhood  whom  no  one  understood.  He 
was  strikingly  handsome — tall,  with  soft 
black  hair  that  seemed  to  worm  itself  into 
graceful  curls.  He  was  not  saintly  in  his 
deportment.  Often  at  night,  while  a 
furious  storm  was  raging,  and  while  the 
lightning  painted  in  frightful  colors  a  mo 
mentary  picture  on  the  cliffs,  Hendricks, 
half  drunk  and  chanting  a  stirring  tune, 
had  been  seen  to  gallop  at  desperate 
speed  through  the  crash  and  roar  of  the 
weather's  awful  outbreak. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Hendricks,  "you  air 
but  pore  proofs  uv  yo'  faith.  Ef  you 
really  believe  whut  you  say  you  do — be 
lieve  that  thar  is  er  crown  that  airter 
while  will  press  with  gentle  soothin'  on 
your  troubled  brows,  you  would  long  fur 


Hendricks  Knew  It.  171 

the  time  when  you  mout  leave  this  world. 
The  shinin'  uv  the  sun  an'  the  quarrel  uv 
the  jaybird  an'  yallerhammer  wouldn't 
have  no  influence  ter  hold  you  back  frum 
er  everlastin'  joy." 

"  Hendricks,"  said  old  man  Blue,  "  you 
air  er  sort  uv  er  poet  an'  kain't  understan' 
the  feelin's  uv  er  common  man." 

"  I'm  not  er  poet  only  in  feelin',"  Hen 
dricks  replied,  "  but  ef  I  was  I'd  know 
mo'  erbout  you  than  I  do,  fur  the  poet, 
erbove  all  others,  understand  the  feelin's 
uv  the  common  man.  It  is  his  perfeck 
understan'in'  uv  the  heart  uv  the  common 
man  that  makes  him  er  poet." 

"  Have  you  got  any  hope  in  the  next 
world,  Hendricks  ?"  old  man  Blue  asked. 

"  Have  you?" 

"Yas."  ' 

"  Why  ?" 

"  Becaze,  I've  got  er  promise." 

"Who  made  it?" 

"  W'y,  the  Lord,  I  think." 

"  Promised  you  that  you  would  be  per 
fectly  happy  in  the  next  world  ?" 


172  Hendricks  Knew  It. 

"  Yas,"  the  old  man  replied. 

''Air  you  perfeckly  happy  in  this  here 
world  ?" 

"  No,  I  ain't." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  the  Lord  always 
keeps  his  promises  ?" 

"  Yas,  I  do." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  want  ter  go  ter 
the  next  world  at  once  ?  Why  don't  you 
pray  fur  death  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  Hendricks." 

"  I  do." 

"  Why,  then  ?" 

11  Because  you  don't  believe  the  Lord 
has  made  you  any  promise." 

"  Oh,  yas,  I  do." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't." 

"  Wall,  I  tell  you  whut  it  is,  Hendricks, 
no  sensible  man  hankers  airter  dyinV 

"  He  does,  if  the  Lord  has  made  him  a 
promise." 

"  Yas,  but  he  wants  ter  wait  the  Lord's 


own  time." 


"A  good  excuse,"   Hendricks   replied. 
"  You  want  to  wait  the  Lord's  own  time, 


Hendricks  Knew  It.  173 

an*  you  hope  that  the  Lord's  time  will  be 
long." 

"  Hendrick's,  you  kain't  blame  er  man 
for  wantin'  to  live." 

"  Yes,  I  can,  if  he  believes  that  he 
would  be  better  off  in  another  world." 

"  But  he  don't  know  that." 

"  Then  he  ain't  got  religion,  an'  don't 
b'l'eve  what  God  says." 

"  Oh,  yas,  Hendricks.  You  know  it 
would  skeer  you  might'ly  ef  you  knowed 
you  had  ter  die  ter-day." 

"  I'm  not  religious,  but  ter  know  that  I 
had  ter  die  ter-day  wouldn't  skeer  me." 

"  I  think  it  would,  Hendricks." 

"  But  I  know  it  wouldn't;  so  now,  fur 
the  sake  uv  argyment,  let  us  say  that  I 
have  got  ter  die  ter-day." 

"Yas,"  rejoined  old  Blue,  "  we  ken  say 
it  fur  argyment's  sake,  an'  it  won't  skeer 
you,  but  ef  it  was  sho'  'nuff,  it  would." 

41  Wall,  then,  say  it's  sho'  'nuff." 

"  We  ken  say  it,  but  that  won't  skeer 
you,  fur  you  know  it  ain't  true." 

"  But  I  know  it  is  true." 


174  Hendricks  Knew  It. 

'*  What,  you  know  that  you  are  goin' 
ter  die  ter-day  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?" 

"  By  this  fack,"  Hendricks  replied.  He 
drew  a  revolver,  placed  it  against  his 
head,  and  fired.  He  fell  from  the  chair, 
dead.  The  men  looked  in  horror  upon 
the  scene.  A  breeze  through  the  open 
doorway  stirred  Hendricks'  hair  into 
beautiful  curls. 


WEARING  OUT  THE  CARPET. 


Among  the  guests  at  a  small  summer 
hotel  were  a  little  boy  and  his  mother. 
The  boy's  fullness  of  life  and  richness  of 
prankish  resource  kept  the  timid,  shrink 
ing  mother  in  a  constant  state  of  alarm ; 
and  the  servants,  noticing  that  she  was 
afraid  that  her  son  might  give  offense, 
took  pains  to  increase  her  anxiety  by 
telling  the  child,  in  those  soft  but  forced 
tones  of  kindness  which  burn  worse  than 
harshness,  not  to  make  so  much  noise  and 
not  to  scatter  bread  crumbs  on  the  steps. 
The  proprietor's  wife,  an  old  woman 
whom  everyone  said  was  motherly, 
unconsciously  took  a  cue  from  the  serv 
ants,  and,  forgetting  that  her  own  sons 
and  daughters  were  once  noisy  children, 
began  to  oppress  the  boy. 

(US) 


1 76          Wearing  out  the  Carpet. 

"  Sh-sh — don't  make  a  fuss,"  she  said, 
meeting  him  in  the  hall.  "  Little  boys 
must  be  seen  and  not  heard.  Go  and  put 
that  ball  away.  You  might  break  some 
thing.  Never  mind  that  cat.  Get  out  of 
my  way.  I  wonder  what  your  mother 
can  be  thinking  about." 

"Tommie,"  his  mother  called  from  a 
neighboring  room. 

"  Maam." 

"Come  here." 

"I  ain't  doin'  nothin'." 

"  Oh,  let  him  alone,  I  pray  you,"  said  the 
proprietor's  wife,  inclining  her  head  and 
smiling  at  the  mother,  who  had  appeared 
in  the  doorway.  "  I  was  simply  afraid  that 
he  might  break  something  with  his  ball, 
but  do  let  him  enjoy  himself,  I  beseech 
you.  Children  will  be  children,  you  know." 

"  I  do  hope  he  won't  cause  you  any 
trouble,"  the  mother  replied.  "  I  do  the 
very  best  I  can  with  him,  but — I — I — 
come  here,  son," 

She  reached  out,  took  the  boy  by  the 
hand,  and  drew  him  into  the  room. 


Wearing  01  if  the  Carpet.          177 

"  What  makes  you  cry,  mamma  ?" 

"  Because  you  are  so  bad,  darling,"  she 
replied,  taking  him  into  her  arms. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  bad." 

"  But  you  are.  You  seem  to  make 
everybody  miserable." 

"  What's  miserable  ?" 

"  Unhappy." 

"What's  unhappy?" 

"Go,  sit  down  over  there." 

He  climbed  up  on  a  trunk,  twisted  him 
self  around,  tore  his  clothes,  got  down, 
killed  a  fly  on  the  window  pane,  picked 
up  a  feather  which  he  found  in  a  corner, 
threw  it  up  and  blew  his  breath  upon  it, 
turned  over  a  work-basket,  climbed  upon 
the  bed  where  his  mother  had  lain  down, 
put  his  hands  on  her  face,  gazed  with  mis 
chievous  tenderness  into  her  eyes,  and 
said: 

11  I  love  you." 

She  clasped  him  to  her  bosom.  "  You'll 
be  a  good  boy,  won't  you  ?" 

"  Yessum,  an'  when  that  nigger  makes 
a  face  at  me,  I  won't  say  anything." 
12 


178          Wearing  out  the  Carpet. 

"  Well,  you  must  not." 

"An'  musn't  I  grab  holt  of  the  calf's 
tail  when  he  shoves  it  through  the 
fence  ?" 

"  No." 

-Why?" 

"  Oh,  because  it  will  hurt  him.  Let 
mamma  go  to  sleep  now,  but  don't  you 
go  out." 

"  Nome." 

The  woman  sank  to  sleep.  The  boy 
got  off  the  bed  and  went  to  the  window. 
He  looked  up  at  a  fly  that  was  buzzing 
at  the  top,  went  back  to  the  bed,  gently 
kissed  his  mother,  and  stole  out  into  the 
hall.  Exuberant  with  freedom,  he  began 
to  gallop  in  imitation  of  a  horse. 

"  Sh-sh!" 

He  was  confronted  by  the  proprietor's 
wife.  "  What  are  you  racing  around  here 
like  a  mule  for — say  ?  Don't  you  know 
you  are  wearing  out  the  carpet  ?  Why 
don't  you  go  somewhere  and  sit  down  and 
behave  like  a  human  being?  Think  I 
bought  this  carpet  to  have  it  scuffed  out 


Wearing  out  the  Carpet.          179 

this  way?  Stop  raking  your  foot  on  the 
floor  that  way." 

He  held  up  his  hands  as  if,  in  begging 
for  forgiveness,  he  would  kiss  her.  "  Don't 
put  your  greasy  hands  on  me.  Go  on, 
now,  and  don't  rake  your  feet  on  this  car 
pet.  I  don't  know  what  mothers  these 
days  can  be  thinking  about." 

"  Tommie,"  his  mother  called. 

"Yessum." 

"  Come  here." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
you,"  she  said,  when  she  had  drawn  him 
into  the  room.  "  What  makes  you  so 
bad?" 

"  I  dunno;  but  it  must  be  the  bad  man." 

"Yes,  and  he'll  get  you,  too,  if  you 
don't  behave  yourself." 

"And  will  he  hurt  me?" 

"  Yes;  he  will." 

"How?" 

"  Burn  you." 

"  Ho!  I'd  shoot  him." 

"  You  couldn't." 

"  Why  couldn't  I  ?" 

12 


180         Wearing  o^lt  the  Carpet. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know." 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  he  would 
burn  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  he  would." 

''  Then  what  made  you  say  that  he 
would  ?" 

"  For  gracious  sake,  give  me  a  little 
peace." 

"A  little  piece  of  bread  ?"  he  asked, 
while  his  eyes  twinkled  with  mischief. 

"  Hush,  sir  ;  hush.  Not  another  word 
out  of  you.  Take  your  dirty  hands  away 
from  my  face." 

"  I  want  to  hug  you." 

"  Well,  hug  me,  then,  and  sit  down." 

"  You  love  me,  don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  little  angel,"  she  said,  pressing 
him  to  her  bosom. 

"  More  than  all  the  houses  an'  railroads 
an'  steamboats  put  together  ?" 

"  Yes." 

To  the  mother  the  days  were  dragged 
over  the  field  of  time  like  the  dead  body 
of  an  animal.  In  misery  lest  her  son 
should  cause  offense,  she  watched  him, 


Wearing  out  the  Carpet.          181 

and,  at  table,  hushed  him.  The  proprie 
tor's  wife  scolded  him,  and  at  last  the 
little  fellow's  spirit  was  cowed.  He  crept 
through  the  hall,  and,  on  tiptoe,  to  keep 
from  wearing  out  the  carpets,  he  moved 
through  the  house.  He  would  shrink 
when  he  saw  the  proprietor's  wife,  and  in 
his  sleep  he  muttered  apologies  and 
declared  that  he  would  be  good.  One 
morning  he  awoke  with  a  burning  fever. 

"  I  vish  you  would  come  in  and  see  my 
little  boy,"  said  the  mother,  addressing 
the  proprietor's  wife.  She  went  in.  The 
little  fellow  looked  at  her,  and,  as  a 
deeply-troubled  expression  crossed  his 
face,  said: 

"  I  won't  wear  out  the  carpet." 

"  Why,  no,  you  won't  hurt  the  carpet. 
Get  up  and  run  on  it  all  you  want  to." 

"  I  can't,  now." 

"  But  you  can  after  awhile." 

Days  of  suffering ;  nights  of  dread. 
Everything  had  been  done  and  the  doctor 
had  gone  home.  A  heart-broken  woman 
buried  her  face  in  the  bedclothes.  The 


1 82          Wearing  out  the  Carpet. 

proprietor's  wife,  with  tears  streaming 
down  her  face,  stood  looking  upon  a 
wasted  face  which  had,  only  a  short  time 
before,  beamed  with  mischief. 

"  Little  boy,"  she  said,  "  dear  little 
fellow,  you  are  going  to  leave  us.  You 
are  going  to  heaven." 

"  No,"  he  faintly  replied,  "  I  will  be  in 
the  way,  and  they  won't  let  me  laugh 
there." 

A  long  silence  followed,  and  then  the 
old  woman  whispered: 

"  He  is  gone." 

A  man  with  heavy  boots  walked  on  the 
carpet  in  the  hall. 


A  BRIDEGROOM. 


One  hot  afternoon  a  tramp  printer 
entered  the  office  of  the  Franklin  (Ky.) 
Patriot.  The  regular  corps  of  compos 
itors  were  sufficient  to  do  all  necessary 
work,  but  the  boys  were  lazy  and  wanted 
to  go  fishing,  so  the  tramp  was  given 
temporary  employment.  When  the  boys 
returned  next  day  they  were  surprised, 
and  not  a  little  ashamed,  to  see  that  the 
tramp  had  "set  up"  the  entire  paper — 
work  which  would  have  taken  the  entire 
force  several  days  to  perform.  When  the 
proof-sheets  were  brought  in,  they  were 
found  to  be  so  clean  that  the  editor  of  the 
Patriot  sent  for  the  tramp. 

"What  is  your  name?"  the  editor 
asked. 

"  Oscar  Howell." 

(183) 


184  A   Bridegroom. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?" 

Mr.  Howell  waived  his  hand  around  in 
a  complete  circle. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?" 

"  Means  that  I  am  from  everywhere." 

"  Do  you  want  work  ?" 

"  That's  the  reason  I  came  here." 

"  I  mean  regular  work." 

"  Yes;  but  I  don't  want  to  throw  any 
body  out  of  a  job." 

"  Glad  you  are  so  honorable;  but  those 
boys  out  there  are  my  sons  and  I  am 
thinking  of  sending  them  to  school." 

"  All  right,  then,  I  will  take  their  place." 

"  Do  you  drink  ?" 

"  I  wound  up  the  ball  of  an  extended 
spree  the  other  day,  but  I  am  not  going 
to  drink  any  more." 

"  I  hope  your  resolution  may  hold  out." 

"  I  will  give  it  many  a  half-soling." 

"  Well,  you  may  begin  regular  vork  to 
morrow  morning." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

Within  two  months  from  that  time  Mr. 
Howell  was  one  of  the  best  dressed  men 


A  Bridegroom.  185 

in  the  town.  People  who  had  commented 
on  his  shabby  appearance  now  called  him 
handsome.  He  joined  the  Good  Templars' 
lodge  and  mingled  in  the  society  of  the 
tittering  maidens  of  the  village.  Doctors 
and  lawyers  sought  his  company.  He 
had  brought  a  literary  freshness  to  the 
town.  His  jokes  were  new  ;  his  courtesy 
marked.  One  year  passed  away.  Mr. 
Howell  was  engaged  to  marry  the  hand 
somest  and  most  intelligent  young  woman 
in  the  town.  The  girl's  father  and  mother 
were  delighted.  Howell  was  envied  by  all 
the  young  men.  The  day  for  the  wedding 
drew  near.  The  "  popular  and  enterprising 
tailor"  had  made  HowelPs wedding  suit. 

One  day  another  tramp  entered  the 
office.  Howell  dropped  his  "  make-up 
rule  "  and  sprang  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  Why,  Shorty,  how  are  you  ?" 

"  Sorter  slow,"  the  tramp  replied  as  he 
placed  his  elbows  on  the  imposing-stone. 
"  How  is  it  with  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  flying.  Going  to  get 
married  to-morrow  night." 


1 86  A  Bridegroom. 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.  When  we  separated 
that  day  with  a  carefully  divided  quart,  I 
didn't  think  your  lines  would  so  soon  fall 
in  such  appreciative  places." 

"  Neither  did  I.  It  is  all  due,  though, 
Shorty,  to  my  sobriety.  I  tell  you  there 
is  no  hope  for  the  drunkard.  I'll  never 
drink  any  more." 

"  Glad.  Expect  to  quit  pretty  soon 
myself.  What  sort  of  wedding-toggery 
have  you  got  ?" 

*'  Finest  you  ever  saw." 

"Would  like  to  see  'em.  Where's 
your  room?" 

"  Just  across  the  street." 

16  Suppose  we  go  over." 

"  All  right.     You  ought  to  see  my  girl." 

They  went  to  Howell's  room. 

"  By  George !"  exclaimed  Shorty. 
"  You  will  be  fixed  up  in  style,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I  should  say  so.  Well,  it's  time,  for 
I  have  been  a  fool  long  enough." 

"  Say,  put  'em  on.  I  want  to  see  how 
you  will  look  as  a  bridegroom." 

"  I  don't  want  to  rumple  'em." 


A  Bridegroom.  187 

"  Go  ahead  and  put  'em  on.  You 
know  that  in  my  present  plight  I  can't  go 
to  see  you  step  off." 

"  To  please  you,  Shorty,  I'll  put 
'em  on,  but  you  are  the  only  person 
that  could  cause  me  to  yield  in  this 
matter." 

He  put  on  the  clothes. 

"  By  George,  Oscar,  you  look  like  a 
French  dancing  master.  Well,  I'm  going 
to  take  a  little  nip." 

He  took  a  bottle  out  of  his  pocket  and 
shook  it.  "  Here's  some  old  stuff  a  fel 
low  gave  me  at  Hopkinsville.  Fifteen 
years  old.  Remember  the  time  we  struck 
that  old  negro  for  a  pint  of  peach  brandy? 
Well,  here's  to  you.  Ah,  hah,  hah. 
Would  you  try  a  little  ?" 

'•  No." 

"  Won't  hurt  you.  Wouldn't  hurt  a 
flea.  I  tell  you  that  when  a  fellow  feels 
bilious  a  little  licker  is  a  mighty  good 
thing  for  him.  Ever  get  bilious  ?" 

"Yes,  bilious  now.  Haven't  had  any 
appetite  for  a  week." 


1 88  A   Bridegroom. 

"  I  was  'way  off  the  other  day,  but  this 
stuff  (again  shaking  the  bottle),  has  set 
me  all  right." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  have 
had  that  licker  for  several  days  ?" 

"  Yes.  Tell  you  what's  a  fact,  a  man 
doesn't  want  but  little  of  this  stuff,  and 
the  beauty  of  it  is,  it  keeps  him  from 
drinking  bad  licker." 

"  Let  me  smell  of  it." 

Howell  held  the  bottle  to  his  nose. 
Then,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  his  lips 
closed  over  the  neck.  "Ah,  that  is  good. 
What  sort  of  a  time  have  you  had  since  I 
saw  you  last  ?" 

"Tough,  I  tell  you.  Take  another 
pull  and  hand  it  over  here.  Recollect 
that  song  old  Patsy  Bolivar  used 
to  sing — •'  When  this  old  coat  was 
new?'" 

"  Yes,"  Howell  replied,  "  I  was  thinking 
about  it  the  other  night.  Let  me  taste 
your  ware,  as  Simple  Simon  remarked. 
Getting  pretty  low,  too." 

"Yes,  too  low." 


A    Bridegroom.  \  89 

"That  isn't  bad.  Say,  can  you  sing 
Patsy's  song  ?  " 

"  Might  if  I  had  licker  enough." 

"  Let's  slip  down  the  back  stairs  into 
that  saloon." 

"All  right,  but  ain't  you  going  to  take 
off  your  wedding  clothes  ?" 

41  No  ;  we  won't  be  down  there  but  a 

few  minutes." 

***** 

The  next  day  a  battered  bridegroom 
and  a  ragged  tramp  awoke  in  a  cattle  car, 
seventy-five  miles  from  Franklin. 

"  Say,  Oscar!" 

"  Well." 

41  Give  me  your  vest.  You  ain't  got  no 
use  for  so  much  toggery." 

"  All  right,  here  she  is." 

"  Where  shall  we  strike  for  ?" 

"Reckon  we'd  better  get  off  at  the 
junction  and  strike  out  down  the  Memphis 
road." 


DAVE  SUMMERS. 

HIS  OWN  STORY  OF  A  ROMANCE  AND 
ITS   ENDING. 

Dar  ain't  no  frolic  in  whut  I'm  gwine 
ter  tell.  I  know  dat  some  folks  thinks 
dat  er  nigger's  life  is  made  up  o'  laziniss 
an  skylarkin',  but  dat  belief,  'specially  in 
my  case,  ain't  de  truf.  Oh,  I  had  my  fun 
w'en  I  wuz  er  youngster.  Bless  you,  dar 
wa'n't  er  pusson  in  de  neighborhood  dat 
hankered  atter  mischief  mo'  den  Dave 
Summers  did,  but  'stead  o'  ole  age 
bringin'  dat  peace  an'  rest,  which,  eben  in 
de  libely  time  o'  youth,  sensible  pussons 
looks  forward  ter,  dar  come  trouble  o'  de 
blackest  sort. 

W'en  I  wuz  erbout  fifty  years  ole,  de 

notion  got  inter  my  head  dat  I  aughter 

preach.     I  doan  know  how  it  got  dar — 

sholy   not   becaze    I    had    been   thinkin' 

(190) 


Dave  Summers.  191 

erbout  it — fur  de  fust  thing  I  know'd 
erbout  it  wuz  wakin'  up  one  mawnin'  wid 
de  idee,  I  talked  wid  some  o'  my  frien's 
an'  da  said:  "  Dave,  dat  is  er  call,  an'  you 
better  not  be  projickin'  wid  it.  De  speret 
wants  yer  ter  fling  yer  voice  inter  de 
gospul  work  an'  you  better  not  make  er 
Jonah  o'  yerse'f  by  try  in'  ter  run  erway." 

"But  how's  I  gwine  ter  preach?"  I 
axed.  "  It's  'bout  ez  much  ez  I  ken  do 
ter  read." 

"  De  Lawd  ain't  axed  you  ter  read,"  one 
o1  my  frien's  says.  "  He  axes  yer  ter 
preach;  ef  you  ken  read  er  little,  you  ken 
1'arn  how  ter  read  mo'." 

I  went  erway,  mighty  troubled  in  my 
mine.  My  wife  had  been  dead  fur  sebrel 
years,  an'  not  habbin'  any  chillum  I  libed 
by  myse'f  in  er  cabin  on  er  big  plantation. 
I  shet  myse'f  up  an'  prayed.  De  naixt 
mawnin'  my  load  'peared  ter  be  heavier. 
Dar  wa'n't  nuthin'  left  fur  me,  so  I  says: 
"  I  will  preach.  I  will  get  somebody  ter 
1'arn  me  how  ter  read  mo'  an'  I  will  preach 
de  gospul  de  bes'  I  knows  how."  Den  I 


192  Dave  Summers. 

thought  o'  my  load,  but  it  wuz  gone.  It 
wa'n't  long  till  I  stood  up  in  de  pulpit. 
Dar  wuz  sebrel  smart  men  in  de  church, 
an'  it  'peared  ter  'muze  'em  might'ly  ter 
yere  ez  ignunt  er  man  ez  I  wuz  talk  erbout 
heaben  an'  de  souls  o'  men.  Ah,  Lawd! 
ignunce  ken  fling  ez  much  light  on  some 
subjec's  ez  de  greates'  'arthly  wisdom 
ken.  I  went  at  my  work  in  earnes',  not 
tryin*  ter  git  up  er  great  'citement,  but 
'deavorin'  ter  show  de  folks  de  right  way 
to  live  in  dis  worl'  so  da  would  be  better 
prepared  for  de  life  to  come  ;  an'  ef  dar 
eber  wuz  er  man  dat  wuz  hones'  an'  true 
ter  his  callin'  I  b'l'ebes  dat  I  wuz  de  pusson. 
'Mong  de  members  o'  my  flock  wuz  er 
mighty  likely  'oman  named  Frances.  I 
wuz  fust  drawed  toward  her  by  her  singin', 
an'  one  time  when  de  sweetness  o'  her 
music  died  away,  I  looked  at  her  an' 
'knowledge  ter  myse'f  dat  I  loved  her.  At 
fust  she  sung  fur  my  soul  an'  I  worshiped 
wid  her,  but  atter  w'ile  she  sung  ter  my 
heart  an'  I  worshiped  her.  I  tried  ter 
think  o'  my  ole  wife  lying'  in  de  shade  o' 


Dave  Summers.  '  193 

de  sycamo'  trees,  an,  in  my  min'  I  could 
see  de  rail  pen  round  her  grave  an'  de 
trees  would  be  gone  an'  in  dar  place  would 
stan'  a  likely  'oman  smilin'  at  me.  I  went 
ter  my  ole  wife's  grave  an'  drapped  down 
on  my  knees  an'  prayed.  De  broad  syca- 
mo'  leaves  waved  and  specks  o'  moonlight 
come  siftin'  down  like  de  fly  in'  chaff  o' new 
oats  dat  ketches  de  light  o'  de  fresh-born 
day.  Er  makwin'  bird  sung  in  er  tree  close 
by,  but,  way  ober  on  er  hill,  er  night  hawk 
cried.  I  thought  how  me  an'  my  ole  wife 
had  wucked  in  the  fiel',  side  by  side,  an* 
de  bird  seemed  ter  sing  sweeter,  but  den, 
twixt  me  an'  de  grave  dar  hung  er  bright 
smile.  I  tried  ter  rub  it  out  wid  my  han', 
but  dar  it  hung,  an'  through  its  brightness 
I  seed  de  worm-eat  head-boa'd  o'  de  grave. 
"O,  Lawd,"  I  prayed,  " let  dis  temptation 
pass  erway.  Let  dy  sarvent  in  his  ole  age 
hab  de  strenth  ter  turn  fum  de  high- 
strung  follies  o'  de  young  man."  I  riz  up, 
wid  de  damp,  dead  grass  clingin'  ter  my 
knees.  De  lights  gunter  shine  fum  de 
church  close  by,  an'  de  sad  an'  swellin'song 

13 


194  Dave  Summers. 

o'  de  congregation  peared  ter  lay  er 
tremblin'  han'  on  my  heart.  Why  did  I 
on  er  sudden  lean  ergin  er  tree?  Becaze  I 
heard  her  voice.  I  went  inter  de  church 
an'  ez  I  walked  wid  bowed  head  toward  de 
pulpit*  I  heard  somebody  whisper.  "  He's 
been  in  de  woods  ter  pray."  I  did  not 
look  up  but  I  knowed  who  it  wuz  dat 
whispered,  for  my  heart  felt  de  tech  o'  de 
tremblin'  han'.  I  preached  dat  night  de 
best  I  could,  an'  it  seemed  dat  I  made  my 
hearers  feel  some  o'  my  own  sadness,  fur 
w'en  I  called  fur  de  stricken  in  heart  ter 
come  up  ter  de  mou'ners'  bench,  mo'  come 
forward  den  had  eber  come  befo'  under  de 
'fluence  o'  my  callin'.  We  stayed  late  in 
de  church  dat  night.  Nearly  all  de 
mou'ners,  habin'  wuck  ter  do  de  naixt  day, 
had  dun  left  de  house  w'en  I  noticed  one 
po'  feller  whose  heart,  it  'peared  like,  wuz 
almos'  broke.  He  lay  flat  on  de  flo'  an' 
groaned  like  he  suffered  great  pain.  I 
went  ter  him,  raised  him  up  an'  hiP  his  head 
on  my  knee.  De  congregation  thinned 
out,  one  by  one.  I  leaned  over  an' 


Dave  Summers.  195 

talked  ter  de  po'  man.  Lookin'  up  I  seed 
dat  Frances  was  kneelin'  wid  us. 

"Lady — Sister  Frances,"  I  said,  "it's 
time  dat  you  wuz  goin*  home.  De  can'les 
is  all  burned  away  an'  de  lamps  is  goin% 
out." 

"  I  will  stay  an'  he'p  you  poor  de  ba'm 
on  dis  po'  sinner,"  she  replied. 

I  didn'  say  no  mo';  but  w'en  mo'  den 
er  hour  afterwards  de  sinner  got  up  ter  go, 
I  says  ter  her : 

"Sister  Frances,  if  you  ain't  got  no 
jections,  I'll  walk  home  wid  you." 

She  smiled — de  same  smile  dat  I  had 
seed  twixt  me  an'  de  worm-eat  head- 
boa'd  o'  de  grave — an'  said  dat  she  would 
be  pleased  for  me  ter  'company  her.  I 
doan  know  what  I  said  ter  her  ez  we 
walked  erlong,  but  I  know  dat  w'en  we 
got  ter  de  little  gate  in  front  o'  de  cabin 
w'ar  her  folks  libed,  she  wuz  leanin'  on 
my  arm.  De  moon  had  gone  down,  an' 
de  flutterin'  in  de  trees  in  de  yard  told 
me  dat  de  mawnin'  birds  wuz  fixin'  ter 
begin  dar  twitterin'. 

13 


196  Dave  Summers. 

"  Brudder  Summers,"  said  de  lady,  ez  I 
wuz  erbout  ter  bid  her  good-bye,  "dar 
'pears  ter  be  sunthin'  on  yo'  mine." 

"  Not  only  on  my  mine,  Sister  Frances, 
but  dar  is  sunthin'  on  my  heart." 

I  was  goin'  ter  turn  erway  atter  dis,  but 
she  put  her  han'  on  my  arm — de  same 
tremblin'  han'  dat  had  teched  my  heart — 
an'  said: 

"  Tell  me  'bout  yo'  troubles.  Tell  me 
whut  is  lyin'  on  yo'  heart." 

"  Er  tremblin'  han',  lady." 

"  Does  you  know  dat  it  is  er  han'?" 

"  Yas,  fur  I  keen  see  it  in  de  light  o'  'er 
bright  smile." 

"Isde  han' cold?" 

"No,  lady." 

"  Is  it  ez  wa'm  ez  mine  ?"  she  said,  ez 
she  put  her  han'  in  my  own  fever-like 
grasp.  De  naixt  minit  my  arm  wuz  around 
her.  De  mawnin'  birds  twittered  in  de 
trees,  light  gunter  wink  ercross  de  bot- 
toms>  an'  dar,  ez  de  gold  o'  de  day  wuz 
chasin'  de  fleetin'  silver  o'  de  dawn,  I  axed 
her  ter  be  my  wife. 


Dave  Summers.  197 


CHAPTER    II. 

We  wuz  married.  I  tuck  her  ter  my 
cabin  an'  bright  light  fell  on  my  hearth 
stone.  She  wanted  ter  he'p  me  in  my 
work  o'  'swadin'  folks  ter  do  right.  "  I 
know,"  she  said,  "dat  folks  all  erround  us 
will  be  makin'  mo*  money  den  we  is,  but 
money  doan  water  de  flowers  o'  de  heart, 
nur  broaden  de  'joyment  dat  comes  ter  de 
soul.'*  I  lubbed  her  deeper  atter  she  said 
dat,  fur  I  seed  dat  her  natur  wa'n't  vain 
nur  her  heart  set  upon  de  flesh-pots  o'  de 
world. 

Two  years  passed  erway — two  o'  de 
nappies'  years  o'  my  life.  One  day  dar 
was  some  bills  stuck  up  'nouncin'  dat 
Andrew  Hennifen,  er  colored  politician 
dat  libbed  in  town,  would  on  de  naixt 
Friday  make  er  speech  ter  de  folks.  Er 
campaign  wuz  on  han'  an'  gre't  intrus' 
wuz  felt  in  de  outcome.  Wen  de  day 
come  de  weather  wuz  so  showery  dat  da 


198  Dave  Summers. 

couldn'  hoi'  de  meetiiV  out  do's,  so  some 
o'  de  men  come  ter  me  an'  axed  me  ef  da 
mout  meet  in  de  church.  I  didn'  much 
think  dat  it  wuz  de  right  sort  er  meetin' 
ter  be  hel'  in  de  house  o'  de  Lawd,  but 
seein'  dat  da  wuz  all  so  anxious,  I  tole  em 
dat  da  mout.  Den  da  axed  me  ter  go 
ober  an'  lissen  ter  de  gre't  speech  wut  de 
generman  wuz  gwine  ter  make.  I  didn' 
like  de  idee  o'  settin'  in  my  own  church 
and  lissenin'  ter  de  skussion  o'  de  erfairs 
o'  de  worP.  Den  Frances  spoke  up : 

"  W'y,  Dave,"  she  said,  "  if  we  are  gwine 
ter  lib  in  de  worl'  we  mus'  take  some 
intrus'  in  de  erfairs  o'  de  worl'.  Ef  de 
man  had  got  anything  wuth  yearin',  I  doan 
see  w'y  we  aughtenter  go  an'  lissen  ter 
him.  Ef  we  finds  dat  wut  he  says  ain't 
fit  fer  us,  w'y  den  we  ken  come  erway." 

"  Wut  you  says  is  true,  Frances,"  I 
replied,  "an  you  mus'  scuse  me  ef  I  is 
holdin'  you  back  in  any  way.  Er  ole  man 
loves  wid  jes'  es  much  wa'mth  ez  er  young 
man  does,  an'  it  is  er  pity  dat  he  doan  lub 
wid  ez  much  jedgment." 


Dave  Summers.  199 

"You  musn'  talk  dat  way,  Dave,"  she 
said,  wid  er  laugh,  "fur  in  lovin'  me  yo' 
jedgment  ain't  made  no  mistake." 

Hennifen  wuz  er  tall,  yaller  man,  an* 
much  younger  den  I  'spected  ter  fine  him. 
In  his  speech  he  used  a  good  deal  o 
strong  talk,  an'  called  er  lot  o'  folks  dat 
wa'n't  present,  liars  an1  thieves.  I  didn' 
like  dis,  but  er  man  dat  sat  naixt  ter  me 
tole  me  dat  it  wuz  all  right,  an'  dat  ef  de 
speaker  didn'  do  dater  way,  de  folks  would 
think  dat  he  wuz  erfeered  ter  'nounce  his 
principles.  Atter  de  speakin'  wuz  over, 
de  speaker  come  up  ter  me,  hil'  out  his 
han'  an'  said : 

"Mr.  Summers,  I  has  often  hearn  o' 
you,  sah,  an'  I  takes  dis  'tunity  o'  shakin' 
han's  wid  you." 

Wen  I  had  shuck  han's  wid  him,  he 
said  : 

"  Is  dis  yo'  daughter  wid  you  ?" 

"  My  wife,  sah,"  said  I. 

"Ah,  I's  pleased  ter  meet  de  lady." 

We  walked  on  outen  de  house,  an' 
Hennifen  wuz  so  busy  talkin'  'bout  de 


2OO  Dave  Summers. 

gre't  principles  o'  his  party  dat  he  didn' 
seem  ter  notice  dat  he  wuz  walkin'  erway 
fum  de  crowd  wid  us.  Atter  w'ile  he 
stopped  an'  said  dat  he  reckoned  he  better 
go  back. 

"Won't  you  walk  on  home  wid  us?" 
my  wife  said. 

"I  thanks  you  kindly;  I  bTebe  I  will," 
he  answered.  "I  would  like  ter  see  de 
inside  o'  my  'stinguished  'quaintance's 
house,"  makin'  er  sideways  motion  wid 
his  head  at  me,  "an'  'sides  dat,  Tse  got  er 
little  bizness  ter  talk  ober  wid  him." 

"You  will  see  er  lowly  household,"  said 
I,  "fur  I  ain't  been  gaged  in  gederin'  de 
shinin'  goods  o'  de  yeth,  but  at  de  do'  you 
will  see  er  vine  dat  is  watered  wid  truf  an* 
dat  blooms  in  contentment." 

"Dar  ain't  no  reason  why  dar  shouldn' 
be  some  o'  de  shinin'  goods  o'  de  yeth  in 
yo'  house,"  said  he.  "De  fack  dat  da  is 
o1  de  yeth  doan  meek  'em  none  de  less 
de  Lawd's,  an'  bein'  shiny  doan  meek  'em 
de  property  o'  Satan." 

I    seed  my  wife   look   at   him   wid   er 


Dave  Summers.  201 

quick  glance,  an'  I  knowed  dat  she 
'proved  o'  wut  he  said.  I  seed  mo'  den 
dat — I  seed  wut  until  dat  time  had  'scaped 
me — I  seed  dat  de  man  wuz  good  lookin'. 
I  felt  er  pang  o'  oneasiness,  an'  I  cleared 
my  froat  deep,  ez  ef  I  would  rasp  de  pang 
outen  my  bosom.  Wen  we  got  ter  de 
house,  he  set  down  in  er  rockin'  cheer  an' 
made  hisse'f  look  freer  an'  easier  den  I 
had  eber  felt  in  any  house  'cep'  my  own. 
Frances  went  inter  de  little  shed  kitchin 
dat  j'ined  de  house  an'  cooked  dinner.  It 
struck  me  dat  she  tuk  er  heep  o'  pains, 
specially  w'en  she  fotch  out  er  table  clof 
dat  I  didn'  know  she  had.  Atter  dinner 
Mr.  Hennifen  said  dat  he  would  git  down 
ter  bizness. 

"  Mr  Summers,  you  is  too  smart  er  man 
ter  be  wastin'  yo'  substance,"  wuz  de  way 
he  started  out.  I  didn'  say  nothin'.  He 
went  on :  "  You  hab  got  de  'bility  ter 
make  yo'se'f  mighty  useful  ter  yo'  country. 
De  'fluence  dat  you  has  'stablished  ober 
yo'  fellerman  ken  be  turned  ter  rich 
ercount.  De  bes'  people  in  dis  county 


202  Dave  Summers. 

wants  ter  'lect  Hillson  fur  sheriff.  Dis 
ken  only  be  done  by  good  men  puttin1  dar 
shoulders  ter  de  wheel.  I  is  Hillson's 
right  han'  man,  an  Ps  got  de  'thority  for 
sayin'  dat  ef  you'll  turn  in  an'  make 
speeches  fur  him  dat  he  will  pay  you 
well." 

My  wife  looked  at  me.  "  Mr.  Henni- 
fen,"  said  I,  "wut  you  say  may  be  de 
truf,  but  I  is  makin'  speeches  fur  de 
Lawd." 

"  Yes,  but  makin'  speeches  for  de 
Lawd,  Mr.  Summers,  needn'  keep  you 
frum  speakin'  in  fabor  o'  Hillson." 

"Dave,"  said  my  wife,  "Mr.  Hennifen 
is  sholy  right,  an',  mo'n  dat,  ef  dar's  er 
man  in  dis  neighborhood  dat  needs 
money,  you  is  de  man.  De  folks  dat  lis- 
suns  ter  you  preach  neber  seems  ter 
know  dat  we  needs  things  in  dis  house." 

"  Frances,"  I  replied,  "  Mr.  Hillson 
ain't  er  man  o'  my  choice.  He  has  been 
mixed  up  in  ugly  erfairs,  an'  I  kain't  make 
no  speeches  fur  him;  so,  let  de  subjeck 
drap  right  whar  it  is." 


Dave  Summers.  203 

Hennifen  'sisted  on  sayin'  mo',  but  I 
tole  him  it  wa'n't  no  use.  He  didn'  stay 
long  atter  dis,  but  sayin'  dat  he  would  see 
me  ergin,  went  erway. 

"  Does  you  allus  'spect  ter  lib  in  pov 
erty  ?  "  my  wife  axed. 

"  I  doan  'spect  ter  meek  speeches  in 
fabor  o'  er  dishones'  man,"  I  answered. 

Hennifen  come  back  inter  de  neigh 
borhood  de  naixt  week  an'  called  at  my 
house,  but  I  wa'n't  at  home.  When  I  axed 
Frances  wut  he  had  ter  say,  she  said  dat 
he  didn'  stay  but  er  few  minits  an'  didn' 
say  much  o'  anythin'.  Er  few  days  atter- 
wards  I  hearn  dat  he  wuz  in  de  neighbor 
hood  ergin,  workin'  wid  de  voters,  but  he 
didn'  come  ter  my  house,  an'  I  didn' 
hunt  him. 

Nearly  er  munt  must  hab  passed  w'en 
one  day  I  wuz  called  on  ter  preach  de  funul 
o'  er  man  ober  in  ernuder  'munity.  I  didn' 
git  back  till  late  in  de  night.  De  house 
wuz  dark,  an'  ez  I  went  up  ter  de  do'  I 
tangled  my  foot  in  de  vine,  stumbled  an* 
tore  it  up  by  de  roots.  I  went  in  an*  lit 


2O4  Dave  Summers. 

de  candle.  Frances  wa'n't  dar.  I  called 
her — stepped  to  de  do'  an'  called  her  till 
de  echo  o'  my  voice  brought  back  wid  it 
de  cry  o'  er  night  bird.  I  went  ober  ter 
er  neighbor's  house.  De  women  folks 
'gun  ter  cry  ez  soon  ez  da  seed  me.  I 
axed  ef  da  had  seen  Frances. 

"  Oh,  Brudder  Summers,  she's  dun 
gone  wid  dat  yaller  raskil.  He  fotch  er 
buggy  an'  tuck  her  erway." 

I  went  down  ter  de  sycamo'  trees  w'ar 
my  ole  wife  wuz  buried,  an'  got  down  on 
my  knees.  Dar  wa'n't  no  bright  smile 
'twixt  me  an'  de  grave. 


CHAPTER  III. 

De  women  folks  fotch  flowers  nearly 
ever'  day  an'  put  'em  in  my  house,  an'  de 
men  folks  tuck  off  dar  hats  w'en  da  come 
w'ar  I  wuz.  I  kep'  on  makin1  speeches 
fur  de  Lawd,  an'  men  dat  wuz  once  noisy 
in  church  wuz  now  quiet. 


Dave  Summers.  205 

De  'leckshun  time  come  on,  and  I  kotch 
up  my  old  gray  boss  an'  rid  up  ter  town. 
I  went  ter  all  de  votin'  places,  but  didn' 
see  nobody  dat  I  knowed.  I  heard  one 
man  say:  "  Wonder  wut  dat  cuis-lookin' 
ole  man  is  er  pokin'  Youn'  yere  fur?"  Den 
somebody  answered:  "  Dar's  er  yaller 
man  dodgin'  'round  yere  somewhar  dat 
mout  fling  some  light  on  dat  question." 
Ever'  time  I  hearn  o'  any  political  ter-do 
anywhar,  I  rid  dar,  but  didn'  see  nobody 
dat  I  knowed. 

Winter  time  come,  de  col'est  winter  dat 
1  eber  felt.  One  Sunday  dar  come  er 
heavy  snow,  an'  dat  night  it  turned  so 
col'  dat  I  couldn'  hardly  keep  wa'm  by  de 
fire.  De  win'  blowed  hard.  Suthin 
flapped  ergin  de  winder.  I  hil'  de  candle, 
an*  dar  seed  de  great  starin'  eyes  o'  er 
night  bird.  I  turned  erway  an'  had  jes' 
sot  down  by  de  fire  w'en  I  hearn  er  noise 
at  de  do';  I  lissened,  an'  den  I  hearn  er 
groan.  My  heart  felt  de  tech  o'  er  col' 
hand,  an'  I  knowed  dat  Frances  had  come 
back.  I  opened  de  do';  she  lay  on  de 


206  Dave  Summers. 

groun'  wid  her  face  turned  up.  I  tuck 
her  in  my  arms  an'  laid  her  on  de  bed. 

"  Dave — Dave,  won't  you  forgib  me  ?  " 

I  stood  lookin'  at  her.  "  Oh,  won't 
you  forgib  me  ?  De  Lawd  has  pardoned 
me,  an'  I  has  come  back  ter  ax  you — 
you—" 

"  Yas,"  I  said,  "yas,  po'  child.  Go  ter 
sleep  in  peace." 

She  looked  at  me  an'  tried  ter  smile, 
but  de  light  wuz  gone,  an'  dar  wa'n't  no 
smile  'twixt  me  and  de  grave. 

We  laid  her  under  de  sycamo'  trees, 
but  not  w'ar  my  old  wife  wuz  buried. 

I  kep'  on  goin'  ter  p'litical  meetin's,  an' 
some  folks  wondered  why  er  ole  man  dat 
neber  voted  tuck  such  intrus*  in  sich 
erfairs. 

One  day  I  wuz  ridin'  'long  er  road  near 
w'ar  er  number  o'  convicts  wuz  at  work. 
I  seed  er  man  dat  I  knowed  'cross  de 
road  in  front  o'  me.  I  turned  toward 
him.  He  flung  up  er  gun  and  cried  out: 

"  Stop,  er  I'll  kill  you.  Been  er  huntin' 
me  long  ernuff." 


Dave  Summers.  207 

I  didn'  stop,  an'  he  fired  at  me,  an*  den, 
flingin'  down  de  gun,  he  clim  de  fence 
an'  'gunter  run  ercross  er  fiel'.  Er  mighty 
yelpin'  noise  made  de  a'r  ring,  an*  lookin' 
erway  ter  de  right,  I  seed  er  lot  er  blood 
hounds  dat  da  kep'  fur  chasin'  de  convicts. 
Da  wuz  atter  de  man.  Somebody  yelled 
ter  'em  ter  stop,  but  da  didn'.  I  got  often 
my  hoss,  an',  wid  seb'ral  men,  followed  de 
dogs.  We  heard  de  man  holler — we  seed 
him  tryin'  ter  fight  off  de  dogs.  "  Mus- 
syful  God  !  "  I  hearn  him  cry,  an*  den  his 
voice  wuz  swallowed  up  by  de  howlin'  o1 
de  dogs.  Wen  we  come  up  ter  w'ar  de 
dogs  wuz,  I  seed  er  man  tore  all  ter  pieces, 
an'  I  seed  er  dog,  atter  lookin'  at  me, 
bury  his  teeth  in  er  yaller  face. 

Dat  night  ez  I  riz  up  frum  my  ole  wife's 
grave,  de  dead,  damp  grass  clung  ter  my 
knees. 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  ROMANCE. 


Capt.  Rilford  is  known  as  one  of  the 
bravest  and  most  gallant  officers  of  the 
United  States  army.  He  is  one  of  those 
old  bachelors  to  whom  the  passing  years 
bring  additional  installments  of  romance. 
I  have  seen  him  go  into  ecstatic  spasms 
over  a  spout  spring  in  the  mountains, 
and  have  known  him  to  lie  under  a  tree 
and  shed  tears  over  the  misfortunes  of 
a  heroine  drawn  by  some  fourth-class 
romancer  ;  but  in  action  he  was  so  fearless 
that  his  brother  officers  excused  what 
they  pleased  to  term  his  soft  qualities. 

A  short  time  ago  the  captain  was 
granted  a  leave  of  absence.  He  had 
long  since  grown  tired  of  all  the  fashion 
able  watering-places,  and  no  longer  could 
find  anything  in  the  cities  to  interest  him, 

so  the  question  of  how  he  should  spend 
(208) 


The  Captains   Romance.         209 

that  time,  which  was  all  his  own,  began  to 
perplex  him. 

"  I  am  acquainted  with  both  the  wild 
and  civilized  life  of  our  country,"  said  he, 
addressing  a  friend.  "  I  know  the  wild 
Indian  and  the  Boston  swell  ;  and,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"  Yes,  you  are  acquainted  with  the  ex 
tremes,"  the  friend  rejoined,  "but  do  you 
know  much  of  the  intermediate  ?  You 
have  made  a  study  of  the  Indian  in  his 
wild  state,  but  do  you  know  anything  of 
him  as  a  citizen  ?  Why  not  go  to  the 
Indian  Territory,  the  Cherokee  Nation, 
for  instance,  and  amuse  yourself  by  study 
ing  the  habits  of  the  Indian  farmer?" 

The  captain  was  so  impressed  with  the 
idea  that,  the  next  day,  he  set  out  for  the 
Indian  Territory.  He  found  the  country 
to  be  beautiful,  with  hills  of  charming 
contemplation  and  valleys  of  enrapturing 
romance.  Streams  like  moving  silver 
thrilled  him,  and  birds,  whom  it  seemed 
had  just  found  new  songs,  made  the 
leaves  quiver  with  echoing  music.  After 

14 


The  Captains   Romance. 

several  days  of  delightful  roaming,  the 
captain  rented  a  small  cabin,  and,  having 
provided  himself  with  a  few  cooking  uten 
sils,  settled  down  to  housekeeping.  With 
the  rifle  and  the  fishing  rod  he  provided 
ample  food,  and  as  he  soon  became  ac 
quainted  with  several  farmers  he  thought, 
over  and  over  again,  that  his  romantic 
craving  had  never  before  approached  so 
near  to  (in  his  own  words)  sublime  satis 
faction.  His  nearest  neighbor,  four  miles 
distant,  was  an  Indian  farmer  named  Tom 
Patterson.  His  family  consisted  of  a  wife 
and  one  daughter,  a  rather  handsome 
girl.  She  had  learned  to  read  and  write, 
and,  as  she  seemed  to  be  romantic,  the 
captain  soon  became  much  interested  in 
her. 

Patterson  was  rather  a  kind-hearted  old 
fellow,  accommodating  in  everything  but 
answering  questions  concerning  his  family, 
but  this  was  not  an  eccentricity,  for  nearly 
all  Indians  are  disposed  to  say  as  little  as 
possible  with  regard  to  themselves.  Ansy, 
the  girl,  was  fond  of  fishing,  and  as  no 


The  Captains   Romance.         2 1 1 

restraint  was  placed  upon  her  actions,  she 
and  the  captain  (his  words  again)  had 
many  a  delightful  stroll. 

There  was,  I  had  forgotten  to  mention, 
another  member  of  the  Patterson  house 
hold,  a  negro  named  Alf.  He  was  as 
dark  as  the  musings  of  a  dyspeptic,  but 
he  was  good-natured  and  obliging. 

"  Rather  odd  that  a  colored  man,  so 
fond  of  political  life,  should  live  out  here 
away  from  the  States,  isn't  it,  Alf  ?"  the 
captain  one  day  asked. 

"  Wall,  no,  sah,  kain't  say  dat  it  is. 
Dar's  er  right  smart  sprinklin'  o'  us  gen- 
ermen  out  yare,  an'  dough  we's  mighty 
fur  erpart  we  manages  ter  keep  up  good 
'sciety,  sah.  Yes,  sah,  an1  ef  it  wa'n't  fur 
de  cullud  genermen  in  dis  yare  'munity 
w'y  de  Territory  would  dun  been  gone 
ter  rack  an'  ruin.  Caze  why?  I'll  tell  yo', 
sah.  De  Ingin  is  a  mighty  han'  ter  fur 
nish  meat,  but  gittin'  o'  de  bread  is  a  dif 
ferent  thing.  In  udder  words,  sah,  he  kin 
kill  er  deer  but  he  ain't  er  good  han'  to 
raise  co'n.  Yes,  sah,  de  nigger  ken  plow 

14 


212          The  Captains   Romance. 

all  roun'  de  Ingin,  an'  de  Ingin  knowin' 
dis,  ginally  gins  de  niggah  er  good 
chance." 

"  You  work  with  Mr.  Patterson  on 
shares,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sah  ;  ha'f  o'  dis  crap  'longs  ter 
me.  W'y,  fo'  I  come  yare  dar  wa'n't 
hardly  nuthin'  raised  on  dis  place  but 
weeds  an'  grass.  I  happened  to  meet 
Patterson  in  Fort  Smif  one  time.  He 
hearn  me  talk  erbout  farmin7  an'  den  he 
made  a  dead  set  at  me  ter  come  home 
wid  him." 

"Are  the  people  throughout  this  neigh 
borhood  very  peaceable  ?" 

"  Yas,  sah,  lessen  da  gits  'spicious  o'  er 
pusson,  an'  den  look  out.  Da  looks  cuis 
at  ever'  stranger,  thinkin'  dat  he's  spyin' 
'roun'  an'  try  in'  ter  talk  de  Injuns  in  faber 
o'  openin'  up  this  yare  territory.  Dar's 
er  passul  o'  fellers  ober  de  creek  dat  calls 
darselves  de  Clicks.  Da  is  allus  'spic 
ious,  an'  I  tells  you  whut's  er  fack,  I'd 
ruther  hab  er  team  o'  mules  run  ober  me 
an'  den  be  butted  by  a  muley  steer — an'  I 


The   Captains   Romance.          213 

does  think  way  down  in  my  cibilization 
dat  er  muley  steer  ken  thump  harder  den 
anything  on  de  face  o'  de  yeth — den  ter 
hab  dem  Clicks  git  atter  me.  Seed  'em 
hang  er  pusson  once  jes'  fur  nuthin'  in  de 
worl',  an'  da  didn'  ax  him  no  questions, 
nuther." 

As  the  days  passed  the  girl  seemed  to 
be  more  and  more  pleased  with  the  cap 
tain.  One  evening  they  sat  on  the  bank 
of  a  stream,  fishing.  The  sun  had  sunk 
beyond  a  distant  hill,  but  continued  to 
pour  over  his  light,  like  a  golden  water 
fall. 

"Ansy,"  said  the  captain,  "this  is  a 
beautiful  and  romantic  country ;  but  do 
you  not  grow  tired  of  living  here  all  the 
time  ?" 

"  If  we  don't  know  any  other  life  we  da 
not  grow  tired  of  this  one,"  she  replied. 

"You  are  a  little  philosopher,"  the  cap 
tain  exclaimed. 

"  I  don't  know  what  that  is,  Captain,  but 
if  you  want  me  to  be  one  I  will  try  to 
be." 


214          The   Captains   Romance. 

The  captain  smiled  and  regarded  her 
with  a  look  of  affection. 

"The  great  cities  would  delight  you  for 
a  time,  Ansy,  and  then  you  could  come 
back  here  with  a  heightened  appreciation 
of  the  sublime  surroundings  of  your  own 
home." 

"The  sun  has  blown  out  his  candle," 
she  said,  pointing.  "  It  is  time  for  us 
to  go." 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  captain  could  not  sleep.  He  had 
extinguished  his  lamp,  but  on  the  wall 
there  was  a  bright  light.  It  grew  brighter, 
and  then  he  saw  that  it  was  the  face  of 
Ansy.  A  rap  came  at  the  door. 

"  Who's  there  ?" 

"  Captain,  for  God's  sake  run  away. 
The  Clicks  are  coming  after  you." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Ansy. 

The  captain  dressed  himself  and  opened 
the  door.  The  girl  was  gone.  The  moon 


The    Captain's   Romance.          215 

was  shining.  The  officer  was  not  the 
man  to  run  away.  He  closed  the  door, 
took  up  a  repeating  rifle  and  opened  a 
small  window.  He  waited.  A  few 
moments  passed  and  he  saw  several  men 
enter  the  clearing  in  front  of  the  cabin. 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?"  the  captain 
shouted. 

"  We  want  you." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

"  Ask  you  some  questions." 

"  You  may  ask  questions,  but  don't 
come  a  step  nearer." 

"  What  did  you  come  here  for  ?" 

"  None  of  your  business." 

This  reply  created  a  commotion.  The 
captain  could  hear  the  marauders  swear 
ing.  "  We'll  break  down  the  door,"  one 
of  them  said  as  he  stepped  forward.  The 
next  moment  he  had  fallen  to  the  ground. 
When  the  smoke  cleared  away  the  captain 
saw  that  the  rascals  were  gone,  but  there 
soon  came  from  the  woods  a  shower  of 
blazing  arrows.  It  was  time  to  get  away. 
The  captain  made  a  hole  in  the  roof. 


216          The   Captains   Romance. 

crawled  out,  sprang  to  the  ground  and 
hurried  into  the  woods. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  went  to  Pat 
terson's  house.  The  family  had  heard  of 
the  fight. 

"You  neenter  be 'larmed  now,  dough, 
sah,"  said  Alf,  the  negro,  "caze  da  foun' 
out  dat  you  wuz  er  Newnited  States  ossi- 
fer,  an'  it  skeered  'em  putty  nigh  ter  def. 
You  gin  it  ter  one  o'  'em  putty  hard,  I 
ken  tell  you.  Shot  him  squar  through, 
an'  da  doan  think  he  gwine  ter  lib,  da 
doan,  but  dat  ain't  no  matter,  fur  he  wuz 
de  wust  one  in  de  bunch.  Ef  he  dies, 
folks  'roun'  yare  will  hoi*  er  pra'r-meetin* 
thankin'  de  Lawd." 

Patterson  and  his  wife  left  the  room, 
but  the  negro  sat  in  the  doorway. 

"Ansy,"  said  the  captain,  "I  owe  my 
life  to  you." 

"Dat  you  does,  sah,"  Alf  replied. 

The  captain  gave  him  a  significant 
glance  and  again  turned  to  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  you  have  saved  my  life,  but  that 
is  not  the  cause  of  my  deep — deep  (he 


The   Captains   Romance.          217 

glanced  at  the  negro) — deep  regard  for 
you." 

The  girl  made  no  reply.  The  captain 
could  have  killed  the  negro.  "  I  will 
ignore  his  black  presence,"  the  captain 
mused.  He  leaned  over  and  took  the 
girPs  hand. 

"Ansy,"  said  the  negro,  "  w'en  dis  yare 
generman  gits  through  wid  yo'  han'  I 
wants  you  ter  sew  er  few  buttons  on  dat 
ar  hickory  shirt  o'  mine." 

"You  scoundrel,"  exclaimed  the  captain, 
springing  to  his  feet,  "  how  dare  you  speak 
in  such  a  manner  to  this  young  lady?" 

"Why,  boss,"  the  negro  replied,  "what's 
de  use'n  makin'  sich  er  great  'miration. 
Dat  'oman  has  been  my  wife  fur  putty 
nigh  two  years." 

The  captain's  romance  was  ended. 


OLD  TILDY. 


In  nearly  every  neighborhood  of  the 
South,  there  comes,  in  the  fall  of  the 
year,  a  sort  of  religious  wave.  Men,  who, 
during  the  summer  swore  at  their  horses 
and  stopped  but  little  short  of  blasphemy, 
in  imprecatory  remarks  addressed  to 
obdurate  steers,  turn  reverently,  after 
fodder-pulling  time,  to  Mt.  Zion,  Eben- 
eezer,  New  Hope  and  Round  Pond,  to 
hear  the  enthusiastic  pleadings  of  the 
circuit  rider  and  the  begging  injunctions 
of  the  strolling  evangelist.  Robert's 
Cove,  in  East  Tennessee,  is  a  neighbor 
hood  typical  of  this  peculiar  religious  con 
dition.  Last  autumn,  when  the  katydid 
shivered  on  the  damp  oak  leaf  and  the 
raccoon  cracked  the  shell  of  the  pinching 

"crawfish,"  there   suddenly  appeared  at 
(218) 


Old  Tildy.  219 

Ebeneezer  meeting-house  a  young  man  of 
most  remarkable  presence.  He  was 
handsome,  tall,  graceful,  and  with  hair  as 
bright  and  waving  as  the  locks  of  the 
vision  that  come  to  Clarence  in  his  awful 
dream.  He  said  that  his  name  was  John 
Mayberry.  He  had  come  to  preach  the 
gospel  in  a  simple,  child-like  way,  and 
hoped  that  his  hearers,  for  the  good  of 
their  souls,  would  pay  respectful  heed  to 
his  words.  A  materialist  would  have 
called  him  a  fanatic,  but  as  there  were  no 
materialists  in  that  neighborhood,  he  soon 
became  known  as  a  devout  Christian  and 
a  powerful  worker  in  the  harvest-field  of 
faith.  He  read  hallowed  books  written 
by  men  who  lived  when  the  ungodly  sword 
and  the  godly  pen  were  at  war  against 
each  other,  and  in  his  fervor  his  language 
bore  a  power  which  his  rude  hearers  had 
never  felt  before. 

One  night,  after  a  stormy  time  at  the 
mourners'  bench,  and  while  women  whose 
spirits  were  distressed  still  stood  sobbing 
about  the  altar,  Mayberry  approached  a 


220  Old  Tildy. 

well-known  member  of  the  church,  and 
said : 

"  Who  is  that  peculiar  old  woman,  that 
wrinkled  and  strange-eyed  dwarf  who  sits 
so  near  the  pulpit  every  night  ?" 

"  We  call  her  old  Tildy,"  Brother  Hen- 
dricks  replied.  "  She  has  been  a-livin'  in 
this  here  neighborhood  mighty  nigh  ever 
sense  I  kin  ricolleck.  She's  a  mighty 
strange  old  woman,  but  I  never  hearn  no 
harm  uv  her." 

"  She  may  be  a  good  woman,"  the 
preacher  rejoined,  ''but  she  casts  a  chill 
over  me  every  time  I  look  at  her.  Good 
bye,  Brother  Hendricks.  Think  of  me 
to-night  when  you  get  down  on  your 
knees." 

The  preacher  sought  his  temporary 
home.  He  lived  about  a  mile  from  the 
church,  in  an  old  log  cabin  with  one  room. 
Many  of  the  people  had  offered  him  a 
home,  but,  declining,  he  declared  that  he 
wanted  to  be  alone  at  night,  so  that, 
undisturbed,  he  could  pursue  his  studies 
or  pray  for  inspiration. 


Old  Tildy.  221 

The  hour  was  late.  The  preacher  had 
taken  down  "Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs" 
and  was  looking  at  its  thrilling  illustra 
tions,  when  a  knock  at  the  door  startled 
him. 

"  Come  in,"  he  called. 

Old  Tildy  stepped  into  the  room,  and, 
quickly  closing  the  door,  stood  with  her 
back  against  it.  She  nodded  her  head 
and  smiled — a  snaggle-tooth  grin — and 
said  : 

"  How  air  yer,  Brother  Mayberry  ?" 

"  I  am  very  well,  I  thank  you." 

"  Powerful  glad  ter  know  that  folks  air 
well." 

"  Thank  you ;  but  what  business  can 
you  have  with  me  at  this  time  of  night  ?" 

"  Mighty  'portant  bizness,  Brother  May- 
berry,  mighty  'portant/' 

"  Does  it  concern  your  soul  ?" 

"  Not  ez  much  ez  it  do  yourn,  Brother 
Mayberry;  not  nigh  so  much  ez  it  do 
yourn." 

"  I  don't  understand  you !"  the  evangel 
ist  exclaimed. 


222  Old  Tildy. 

"  But  I'll  see  that  you  do,  Brother 
Mayberry.  I  reckon  youVe  noticed  me 
at  church,  hai'nt  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  whut  you  reckon  I  went  thar 
fur  ?" 

"  To  hear  the  gospel,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  much,  Brother  Mayberry;  not 
much.  I  went  thar  to  see  you." 

"  To  see  me  !  Why  on  earth,  madam, 
do  you  care  to  see  me  ?" 

"  Would  ruther  see  you  on  earth, 
Brother  Mayberry,  than  anywhar  else.  I 
went  to  see  you,  Brother  Mayberry, 
because  I  love  you." 

"  Merciful  heavens  !"  exclaimed  the 
evangelist,  throwing  up  his  hands  in  a 
gesture  of  horror. 

"  Yes,  Brother  Mayberry,  I  love  you, 
and  I  want  you  to  be  my  husband." 

"  Oh,  God  forbid  !"  the  disgusted 
preacher  groaned. 

"Yes,  Brother  Mayberry,  but  the 
Lawd  hain't  forbid.  Let  me  tell  you  one 
thing:  when  old  Tildy  sets  her  head,  w'y 


Old  Tildy.  223 

suthin'  is  goin'  ter  happen.  Does  folks 
cross  old  Tildy  ?  Yes,  sometimes.  Did 
old  Patterson  cross  Tildy  ?  Yes,  Patter 
son  crossed  po',  old,  harmless  Tildy. 
Whut  did  Tildy  do  ?  She  grabbed  Pat 
terson's  boy  an'  hil  him  under  the  water 
till  he  was  drounded.  Did  Martin  cross 
old  Tildy?  Yes,  Martin  crossed  old 
Tildy.  What  did  old  Tildy  do  ?  She 
met  old  Martin  in  the  woods  an'  killed 
him,  an'  folks  thought  he  killed  hisse'f. 
Now,  air  you,  in  the  bloom  o'  yo'  youth 
and  beauty,  goin'  to  cross  po',  old,  harm 
less  Tildy  ?" 

The  cold  dew  of  horror  gathered  in 
beads  on  the  preacher's  brow.  "  Mad 
am,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  marry  you.  Your 
request  is  preposterous  ;  your  presence  is 
appalling.  Go  away." 

"  Not  until  I  lead  my  husband  with  me, 
Brother  Mayberry." 

"Go,  I  tell  you,  or  I  will  throw  you  out 
of  the  house." 

"  Throw  po\  old,  harmless  Tildy  out  of 
the  house  ?  Ha,  ha  !  Brother  Mayberry  !" 


224  Old  Tildy. 

She  took  a  horse-pistol  from  under  her 
apron.  "  Buckshot  in  this,  Brother  May- 
berry  ;  ha,  buckshot." 

The  preacher  sank  down  on  a  chair. 
He  did  not  care  to  die.  In  life  there  was 
such  a  bright  promise  of  the  good  he 
could  accomplish.  He  could  not  marry 
the  hag,  but  there  she  stood  with  her 
awful  weapon.  Could  he  not  rush  upon 
her? 

"No,  you  can't,  Brother  Mayberry," 
she  said,  lifting  the  pistol.  She  was  read 
ing  his  thoughts.  Could  he  not  pretend 
that  he  would  marry  her,  and  afterward 
make  his  escape? 

"  No,  you  can't,  Brother  Mayberry," 
she  said.  "The  jestice  uv  the  peace  is 
waitin'  outside  with  the  license.  Oh,  no, 
Brother  Mayberry,  I'll  not  give  you  a 
chance  ter  run  away.  Wouldn't  it  be 
awful  fur  the  people  ter  come  here  ter- 
morrer  an*  find  Brother  Mayberry  with  a 
hole  through  his  beautiful  head?  Must 
I  call  the  jestice  uv  the  peace,  ur  shoot 
you  ?" 


Old  Tildy.  225 

"  Merciful  heavens,  what  is  to  become 
of  me  ?  I  cannot  die  this  way." 

"  Yes  you  can,  Brother  Mayberry." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  marry  this  hag." 

"  Not  this  hag,  but  yo'  own  true  love, 
Brother  Mayberry.  Come,  whut  do  you 
say?" 

The  preacher  dropped  upon  his  knees. 
The  woman  advanced  a  few  steps.  The 
preacher  heard  some  one  at  the  door. 
Was  it  the  justice  of  the  peace  whom  the 
woman  had  under  her  control?  A  man 
stepped  into  the  room. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  asked. 

"  This  horrible  creature  is  going  to  kill 
me  if  I  don't  marry  her,"  the  preacher 
replied.  "Are  you  the  justice  of  the 
peace  ?" 

The  man  laughed.  "  No,  I'm  no 
'squire.  Coin'  ter  kill  you,  eh  ?  But  what 
with  ?" 

"That  awful  horse-pistol." 

"That's  no  pistol.  It's  simply  a  stick. 
W'y  this  is  one  of  her  favorite  games. 

15 


226  Old  Tildy. 

Kill  you  !  Why  she  never  hurt  a  thing 
in  her  life." 

"How  about  Patterson's  boy?"  the 
preacher  asked. 

"He's   all    right.       I    seed    him    this 


mawnin'." 


"  Yes,  but  she  killed  old  Martin." 
"  Did  she?     I  saw  him  not  more  than 
three  hours  ago.      Come,   Tildy,  go  on 
away." 

She  put  the  crooked  stick  under  her 
apron,  and,  without  saying  a  word,  glided 
out  into  the  darkness.  The  preacher 
lifted  his  hands  and  uttered  a  fervent 
prayer. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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